


London's Burning

by littlesneezes



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Ballroom Dancing, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I promise, Other, Victorian, Violence, more fluff to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6360850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesneezes/pseuds/littlesneezes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the late 19th century, Marinette is the masked Ladybug protecting Victorian London. Fighting the mysterious akuma, teaming up with the enigmatic Chat and struggling to understand the ostentatious lifestyle of the aristocrat Adrien exposes her to – Marinette fulfils her role as hero with suitable flair and the usual element of clumsiness on the threshold of the turn of the century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bright White Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic to be published online so I'm not sure how it will turn out. This is a work written mainly thanks to my friends who seem willing to read my catastrophes of stories (thank).  
> I'm currently writing chapter two which may be finished with the next few days if I get my butt in gear.

"How complex does this thing need to be?" Marinette muttered to herself while struggling with the tangle of ribbons behind her head. "It's like something _designed_ to trap my fing-ach!" Her index finger had been trapped in a tight knot. She tugged her hand out of the web of red ribbon and let it fall to the roof at her feet.

Marinette sighed as her hair fell back to settle around her shoulders and she sat back on her haunches above the night-time landscape. The city looked beautiful. Like a vast patchwork of red and gold thread and gems of bright white gently blinking away into the horizon, eventually obscured by the smog leaking from the chimneys and factory stacks around London. Marinette barely looked at the view; she took a bigger sigh and poked the small pile of ribbons with the toe of her shoe sullenly. After some short moments of still silence she rocked back on her heels and mumbled a few curses before jumping to her feet.

"I'm ladybug!" She snapped. "I don't need to worry about my hair. Or my reputation as a hero in this city. Or what people at school of think or treat me. I help people, and I always win, even if it's hard for me alone and I'm fighting someone I love and I'm too clumsy to avoid getting soaked when it rains and I can't tell anyone about these nights in the city." Marinette took a breath of cold air and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Even if my hair falls in my eyes when it's windy."

She turned back to the city scape and shook her head. "I need to help this city because I'm the only one who can. It's 1881; I can afford to change myself a little to adjust for the situation." She stood up as straight as she could as she crept to the edge of the rooftop to look down at the almost empty street. The streets were almost empty at this time of night, only a few carts ambling from one end of the road to the other driven by men in dark worker's clothes and some drunks stumbling over the curb to walk their way home from the pubs along the centre of the road. The scene seemed peaceful in comparison to the city during the day with the constant chatter of the workers and clatter of the carriages, Marinette relaxed at the thought of the change in London's scenery but after a moment her restlessness got the better of her.

"The deeper the city gets into night-time, the more likely it is I'll be needed. I should get moving." Marinette said to the empty air and leapt from one building to the next one across the road with ease, pausing on the second roof to flick her fringe from her face and grumble another curse before hopping from one rooftop to another until she had lost her place in the glimmering smoky city. Her black hair formed a sort of cloud around her face making her look a bit like a chimney broom, she thought, as she flew into a group of soot-stained neighbourhoods. She made a note to herself to find a large enough clip to hold her hair away from her eyes once she got home or to cut it much shorter than last time, one or the other.

Before she knew it, Marinette found herself near the city centre, as if she had been draw like a magnet to the foul-smelling brown river and prison-esque government houses. Marinette smiled at the collection of buildings like she had never seen a parliament house before. She had, many times, but she thought to herself over and over that when the street lights along the river reflected into the river and lit up the opposing side of the river, the whole building looked almost regal, like a palace from one of her fantasy books.

She hopped down from a low balcony into the street and walked to lean against the wall between her and the Thames. It was low and grime covered but Marinette rested her folded arms and chin on it comfortably as she gazed down at the water rushing past beneath her. Absently she wondered if she would ever have to chase an akuma into the river. She hoped not, the water was notoriously filthy and not to mention, Marinette had never learnt how to swim. Her family was nowhere near wealthy enough to afford lessons for her, let alone a pool for themselves. The thought left Marinette gloomy so she turned her attention to the street behind her.

Again, it was almost empty, save for a carriage loading boxes of apples and bags of flour a few hundred paces away and a chattering couple walking away from Marinette, giggling quietly behind a lacy fan and gloved hands. Marinette looked forlornly at the gown the smiling woman was wearing, a rich blue thing with strings of pale blue pearls wound around her waist and a spattering of silver crystals on her bodice. The vision of the dress worn by the stranger lingered in Marinette's mind as she imaged what the headdress must look like up close, perhaps a small delicate structure created to look like a crown of glass, or ice. Or maybe a great frilly one, with rich blue feathers falling down over her face like a waterfall and dripping pearls onto her jaw.

Marinette caught herself mid- design and let her smile drop from her face. The chances of her finding the opportunity to follow the dreams of dresses and coats and hats and shoes floating around her mind were so small Marinette could imagine threading them through a needle. She looked down at what she was wearing; a red coat and matching pair of worker-style trousers, so dirty the bright crimson fabric had darkened into a deeper colour not un-similar to the colour of blood. She let a long breath out and looked away from her clothes. She believed that if she was seen from behind she may be thought of as a man of small build and may not even gather any more attention, as long as her mask was not seen.

She touched her hand to her face as she thought it; her fingers meeting the unfamiliar sensation of leather over the area around her eyes and nose, reaching all the way up to her hairline and down to her cheekbones. The texture was smooth but cold to the touch, causing her skin to prickle and to send a small shiver along her scalp as she traced the slope of the mask with her index. She dropped her hand to her side and smiled as she looked up at the sky to see nothing but a dull navy permeated by the golden glow of the streetlights. It is beautiful, she thought, in a filthy smelly way it is beautiful.

Suddenly a rumble and loud booming noise shook Marinette out of her thoughts. She instantly recognised it as an explosion and span around on the spot to find the source of the sound. It didn't take long; a ribbon of smoke was rising from a place only a few blocks away from the river to the north and Marinette thought she could hear some voices shouting over the noise of her own hiccupping heartbeat.

Quickly she jumped from the street over to the nearest building to land on a balcony and up to the rooftops to get a look at the scene.

She almost cried at the sight. An entire building had been destroyed in the explosion, clearly not accidental from the strong smell of gunpowder in the air. The first and second floors were filled with flames, unusable as entrances, while the upper floors were mostly destroyed and gushing smoke from their windows and shattered walls reached up into the air in grey fingers. Both buildings on either side were being encroached upon by the fire and there was already a small group of panicking civilians gathering in the street below, from the neighbouring buildings and those who were lucky enough to be outside the building at the time.

Marinette coughed as she searched for a way into the building but could only see bright dancing shapes of yellow and white as she squinted into the windows of the upper floors. She forced herself to look away as her head pounded with the brightness and heat of the blaze.

"Hey! Up there! Help them, you're a hero right?" A voice cut through the noise of Marinette's coughs and the roar of the fire. "It's the ladybug! Up there, I can see them."

Marinette flinched at the sound of her name and looked down to the street below. The voice had come from a girl around her age in a dark red shirt with long brown hair flowing loosely past her shoulders. She looked up at Marinette like a child would a moving film or a circus performance. With anticipation and absolute adoration.

She took a breath to steady herself. If she was going to play the part, she would at least let watchers know that she knew what she was doing. The city knew her as a hero, albeit an unreliable one, a solitary one, and if you hear it from most mouths, a male one, Marinette had always been set on maintaining the image of the hero, for the city needed it. God knows she needed it too.

Marinette puffed out her chest and declared to the street below, "As an act against the peace of London, this is unacceptable. I, Ladybug-" Marinette cringed at her own words; "-Ladybug will save the city from chaos and return your loved ones."

A small cheer went up from the crowd, now growing into a proper-sized audience. Marinette quickly jumped from one roof to the other then into the haze of smoke and embers, all that was left of the top floor of the building before she could see sense and change her mind, earning another cheer from the street.

The whole floor had been blasted out into the night air by the explosion, the walls of the rooms knocked down into rubble and the roof had seemingly vanished from above Marinette's head. Everywhere she looked the place was burning, smoke filling her vision was all angles and the foul smell of gunpowder and burning plaster seeping up from the floor. To her right a cabinet of books and unrecognisable trinkets collapsed into charred timber.

"This is stupid." She muttered. "There can't be anyone left here, and if there is there is no way in hell I can help them in this inferno of a building."

As she said it a burning rafter fell past her ear and crashed into the floor causing a portion to collapse. Marinette shrank away from the large hole in the ground, now belching out bright white sparks smoke which stung her nostrils, and tiptoed to the stairs leading to the next floor down.

The air was becoming almost unbreathable now. She narrowed her eyes and pulled her sleeve over her nose in an attempt to stifle to burning sensation in her throat as she looked down at her path. The route from where she was and whoever was left in the building looked easy enough as long as Marinette kept an eye on her footing and didn't breathe in too much of the smoke. She gingerly placed her foot down on the first step to test her weight and was immediately greeted by a huge blast of burning air and flakes of white-hot embers bursting into her face from the floor below.

Marinette leapt away from the stairs, pressing her face into the wall and squeezing her streaming eyes tight shut. She took some shaky breaths through her sleeve covering her nose until her head stopped pulsing in time to her heart beat.

After a few seconds she raised her head. She was suddenly aware that there was someone standing behind her, her senses were still sharp enough to tell that much. She didn't turn around, only waited until the stranger spoke.

"You'd better watch out there. You could get hurt."

The voice was unfamiliar. She recognised it as a confident almost singsong undeniably male voice coming from directly behind her.

"Why? I can fend for myself. You should get out of here if you can talk that confidently." Marinette kept her voice low enough so to sound perhaps enough like a man to fool the stranger.

"You're standing in a burning building." said the stranger with an edge of laughter to his voice.

Marinette turned around to take a look at the newcomer. Her eyes still stung from the smoke and what little she could make out through her blurred vision was distorted further by a curtain of smoke. The figure was dressed in black, that much she was sure, and once the stranger had shifted his weight after a moment she could see a mess of blond hair above his masked face.

A mask. That's strange.

"What's strange?" The stranger asked, confused. Marinette realised she had spoken her thought out loud. Maybe the smoke was getting to her head.

"Err, I was thinking that this fire can't be accidental." Marinette said.

"Clearly. What are you? Some sort of suicidal superhero? Or perhaps a detective?"

"I would like to point out that you too are also standing in the burning building." Marinette said while clearing ash from her throat.

The stranger laughed wholeheartedly and moved closer to Marinette allowing her to see him clearer.

"Ah, but I do the whole 'hero' thing much better than you do, I'm sure."

"And how are you so sure of that?"

"To start off, I don't go running around London in drag."

Marinette's eyes snapped forward to meet the stranger's. "Are you going to stop me?" She stood up to her full height to face him. She was barely taller than him.

"Not at all, my lady. I've heard plenty of 'The Ladybug', enough to know I may not even be needed."

Marinette stared unblinkingly at the stranger.

"Although, I'm sure I could be of assistance in this situation." The stranger shifted his weight again casually and tipped his head towards Marinette. He was starting to infuriate her. "There are two children trapped in the floor below us and one older man in the basement, I intend to rescue all three of these civilians without any hitches. Do you have a problem with my plan?" The stranger took another step towards Marinette and raised an eyebrow.

"It's not much of a plan."

"Let's hear yours then, my lady." The stranger threw a challenging look at Marinette as he lifted a hand to gesture to the flight of stairs of which she was still standing at the top landing.

Marinette glowered and stepped out of the path to the stairs to allow the stranger to stand next to her, looking down at the burning stairs. "I haven't performed in a burning building before now, you should know." Marinette said carefully, keeping her voice at a similar level of confidence as the stranger.

"Well, first things first."

"What?"

"I would recommend tying up that hair of yours."


	2. A Golden Brown Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of chapter one.  
> Chat and Ladybug continue to investigate the burning building and fight the akuma who caused the chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished it before Tuesday.  
> Holy mother of god.

Marinette choked back another cough as she gripped the railing running along the wall of the corridor. Her head spun from the heat and smoke and her hair had been swept entirely over her face, she could barely see where she was moving. Her knuckles whitened on the rail as she raised her head to look up at the swaying back of the stranger walking in front of her.

"Who are you anyway?"

The stranger puffed out his chest and put a hand on his hip. "I'm a hero!" He said holding his head high, framed by a smouldering tapestry.

"No, you idiot. _Who_ are you? What is your name?" Marinette straightened up and followed him a little further down the smoke filled corridor. The stranger turned to look back at Marinette.

"You're done with your little rest then? You can call me La Chat for now."

"…Huh?" Marinette looked lost.

"Chat. It means cat. In French." The stranger looked offended at Marinette's confusion.

"Why would I know French?" Marinette said and slowly stepped to stand next to Chat. "I've never learnt any languages besides our Queen's own English. I'm not an aristocrat or anything."

"Oh. I just thought it sounded cool."

Up close Marinette could see that this "Chat" was wearing similar clothes to her, only in pitch black. She admitted to herself it looked good compared to her now soot stained red suit, his only looked slightly dusty from the ash falling around them. His mask was almost identical to hers, save for the emerald green trimming around his similarly coloured eyes. What she had previously thought to be a black ribbon in his hair was a pair of triangular hairclips above each of his ears, obviously meant to mimic the ears of a black cat. Tacky.

"Here. We can start with these two."

She squinted through the curtain of smoke to see that he had brought her to the hiding place of two young children who had been trapped under several pipes which had fallen from the ceiling above. They were unconscious but clearly still breathing as one squirmed under the weight of the pile after Chat had crouched next to him.

"Alright then." Marinette said, speaking as loud and brave as she could without choking on the smoke again. "I'll clear the pipes out of the way while you carry them out of the building. I'll keep your paths clear while you do."

Chat stood up and gave her a smile and a small movement similar to a bow. "Okay then, lady, we'd better hurry." He said, nodding his head upwards to draw attention to the ceiling. It was beginning to sag significantly under the stress of the fire which had barely even touched this floor yet. Marinette's heart jumped a beat and she rushed forwards to the two children.

"Stand back for a second." Marinette said as she rummaged in her pockets. Chat looked baffled but obeyed her order. Marinette hurriedly drew out her only weapon, one she had had as long as her mask, a rich red coloured fan with one large black dot at the centre.

"Uh, sorry to break it to you my lady, but I wouldn't say it's your greatest idea yet, trying to put the fire out with that thing."

"Oh shut it."

Marinette slowly raised her arm, holding the fan above her head and took a breath. Her hand dropped and she let her mind clear as a burst of red light leapt from the fan across to the pile of pipes. In a flash the lead and iron had melted into a flurry of crimson down feathers and left a faint scent of roses in the air before it was inevitably smothered by smoke once again.

Marinette stumbled forward as her head swam. From under her hair she could see the two children were still safe. She could also see Chat wearing a face of utter awe.

He stepped forward to pick up the child without breaking his gaze from Marinette's face. "Woah lady that was…" Chat plucked a drifting feather from the air between his index finger and thumb. "Miraculous."

"Oh could you sound anymore ridiculous?" Marinette said as he slung a child over his shoulder and another under his other arm.

"Has anyone ever told you your magic is beautiful?"

Marinette sighed and kicked a portion of the wall to her left down, clearing a window into the street.

"It being pretty does not warrant it as particularly powerful or useful, particularly in a burning building." She said as she watched a feather glow then crumple up into a small shower of dust next to Chat's head. "Here, jump down to drop off the children with the others. I'll head as far down as I can to find the last resident." Marinette gestured to the path to the street below.

"There." Chat said.

Marinette gave him a puzzled look. "What."

"Right there, you sound like you know what you're doing. You take charge, like a leader."

Marinette laughed and shoved Chat's shoulder. "Just get out there and do your job mister."

Chat gave a short laugh before hopping out through the gap in the wall and into the clean night air. As he fell toward the cobbled street he stole a quick glance up behind him at the floor topmost floors. Through a hazy screen of smoke and the glare of the fire from lower floors he saw a silhouette give a little salute before disappearing into the cloud above him.

Once he hit the ground a small group ran over in a hurry to get the children from his arms. An elderly couple who seemed to know the children cradled the two, who were now beginning to wake up, while thanking Chat with tears running down their faces.

A girl in a red shirt ran over with a face of pure glee.

"What was it like? Working with ladybug, I mean. How are they? Have you seen their true face? Did they tell you what to do or are you two like a duo now?" Is it true they use magic to save us from dangers like this?" She raised an arm up to the scene behind them. "What are they really like? Heroic? Magical?"

Chat smiled at the girl and looked up at the building.

"It was certainly an experience. She knows what she's doing, more than I think I do. She just needs a little help from time to time I believe. Speaking of which I should be heading back." Chat said, and turned to the building.

The girl leapt in front of Chat, blocking his way back to the building. "Wait! Do you mean that the Ladybug is a woman?" She said looking up at Chat with wide eyes and her mouth partially open, like she was really to let out a gasp at any moment.

"Yeah. But you'd better keep that hushed up; she has a reputation to keep." Chat said, smiling down at the girl.

"Oh! Of course, you two can trust me. Alya will keep her secret safe as long as she lives." The girl stood up straight with her hand over her heart and gave Chat a bright eyed grin. He thought to himself, she's so smitten by Ladybug she wouldn't think of speaking the slightest ill of her, incredible. Well, it's not like I can speak.

Marinette stumbled through yet another doorway. Chat had said the last resident was in the lowest floor of the building, through at least three floors entirely engulfed in fire. The basement was not hard to find, once Marinette had made her way to the ground floor after clearing most of the fire with her fan the remaining set of stairs could only lead into the basement. However, using her fan so many times had taken much out of her before she had even reached the top of the set of stairs leading into the final floor.

Now, standing at the top of them she took a moment to steady herself. She had maybe four minutes before the magic in her fan wore out completely and maybe a further two before she passed out from the smoke and heat. She knew she was robust for a human, but no one can stand in a burning building for up to ten minutes while maintaining perfect form. Her breaths were becoming shorter and shorter but she didn't slow down once she had started to descend into the basement floor.

The further she walked down the narrow stairway the clearer the air became, allowing her to take a few deeper breaths before reaching the bottom and facing the room.

It was not on fire. This was what Marinette first noticed. There was barely even a scent of smoke in the air, the boxes and shelves in the room were untouched by the fire and the room was even relatively cool compared to the rooms of the upper floors.

Marinette frowned and quickly searched around the large room for the final resident. The basement was the size of a floor, all walls knocked down to make room for storage of food, basic supplies for cooking and cleaning and spare machinery. Most was stored on racks and shelves lined up in the centre of the room making seeing all corners of the room at once very difficult.

She began to make her way slowly down the aisles and stacks of crates, keeping her eyes wide open in the near-darkness.

As she peered around a small tower of rat poison tins she heard a rattling sound coming for one end of the basement. Her ears prickled at the noise, it sounded something like one of the cans of food stacked around the room being disturbed by a careless foot. Marinette slowly peeked her head around a shelf of miscellaneous spanners, hammers and paintbrushes towards the source of the noise in a shadowy corner of the room obscured by a large wooden box.

In the shadow a shape took form and shifted into Marinette's vision. Immediately she took a defensive position and jerked back behind the shelves giving her cover from the figure now moving slowly towards where she was standing.

It was an akuma, she was now sure of it. The aura the man was giving off sent a freezing shiver down her neck and her hair to stand on end, an air of pure malicious intent and hatred. I wonder what sent this poor soul down this path; she thought to herself, no one would wish for this kind of sheer destruction, no matter the misery they've been through. Right?

The man was dressed in a long brown coat which covered his whole body from neck to shoe, his face covered entirely by an unmoving mask in the shape of a black butterfly like all akuma she had seen thus far. As he shifted towards Marinette she shuddered at the figure, he wasn't moving like a man at all, his legs jerked and juddered like a mechanical person. She stepped back and lifted the fan in her hand between her and the akuma.

"Can you hear me? I'm going to fight you, but…I know you wouldn't do anything like this if you weren't influenced by evil. You won't have to blame yours-"

Before Marinette could finish, a sharp pain burst from her shoulder. She yelped and leapt back to a further distance from the man. Through her coat a patch of deeper red bloomed from the front of her shoulder just below her collarbone. She looked back at the akuma with now blurred vision.

The coat covering the man had been lifted, not by an arm but by a long black spider leg-like shape. Marinette squinted at the figure. Under his coat she could see at least three more of the glistening spindly limbs ready to lash out again. She balked at the thought; she had always hated spiders for their legs, they had far too many of them for such a filthy little creature. The man seemed to notice her disgust and moved forwards.

"I am The Lamplighter. I set light to dark places for the sake of the people in this city _every night_. But do they appreciate my work? Do they acknowledge me at all?" The akuma asked and tilted his head at Marinette. She held her shoulder gingerly with her hand, her right hand gripped tighter on her fan.

"NO!" He shrieked, waving his humanoid arms in a rage and shot a second sharp black limb towards her head.

Marinette rolled out of its path onto the cold ground and flicked her wrist, sending flurry of crimson feathers into his face. As the man scrambled to swat the cloud away from him the feathers melted and solidified into a red cage around his head. He shrieked and clawed at the now solidifying shape on his shoulders, twisting left and right with no effect. The red cloud filled in all gaps left around the man's head turning the net into a head-shaped box around him.

Marinette straightened up. His limbs were faster than she was even on a good day; this was the best way to deal with him. She looked down at the man with a face of pity, now shuddering on the ground clutching his head. This was no way to treat someone who with most probability had only been a sad lonely lamplighter the previous morning.

She touched her bloodied hand to her face where the lamplighter's claw had scraped her cheek a moment before she had ducked out of his way. She still was not fast enough.

"Hey, you could have saved some of the fight from me."

Marinette groaned as the familiar voice carried from one end of the basement to where she was standing.

Chat jogged up to Marinette with a playful grin on his soot smudged face. "The fire upstairs suddenly went out. Like that, *poof*. I thought you might have finished of the akuma… woah… you really..." Chat said as he slowed down next to her and looked down at the akuma on the ground. He was silent now, perfectly still besides from his fingers still clawing at the red cage around his head. "Will he be okay?"

"Yeah. He won't remember anything since being akumised in the first place. Just like a bad dream I guess." Marinette said and reached into the man's coat, pulling out a small polished rock in the shape of a black butterfly. Her stomach turned at the sight of it.

"What's that, lady?" Chat leaned over her hand holding the token.

"It's what they all have, each time. Probably what changes them into…this." Marinette nodded down at the man who seemed to have stopped moving entirely since she took the rock.

She dropped the butterfly on the ground and suddenly stamped on it with all her weight, getting a small jump out of Chat. Out of the shards of the stone came a small black shape which fluttered around the shattered rock sleepily in slow circles.

Chat realised it was a butterfly, like the one the rock was shaped as. He remained silent as Marinette lifted her fan one more time above the butterfly with a sombre expression.

"I free you from evil." Her hand dropped and a gust of air wound up from the fan, spinning around the butterfly and tossing Chat's hair around his eyes. When he looked back at the butterfly, it had disappeared from around the ruined rock. He looked around the room seeing nothing but half-darkness and shelves of food.

"It's over now." Marinette said. She's exhausted; Chat observed as she stood up straight and looked up at him. She looks strong though, she won the fight.

Marinette took a deep breath and shuddered, her hand tightening on her shoulder.

"Wait, are you injured?" Chat rushed to Marinette's side and saw the red stain seeping through her coat. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Marinette smiled weakly. "I'm fine, he only got me once." then frowned. "And on the cheek." She added.

"Your face?" Chat looked horrified and grabbed her face in his hands. "Will it scar?" He asked with a look of utter horror.

Marinette laughed. "No, of course not. I don't scar easily, don't worry." She said, brushing his hands away and began to walk to the set of stairs leading up to the ground floor. "It'll probably be healed by the morning."

"Oh, well uh, good job." Chat said as he followed her up the steps. Marinette smiled from behind her tangled curtain of black hair. She realised a chunk next to her ear had been clipped by the lamplighter's black limb earlier. She fiddled with her hair; the line was so cleanly cut she would have believed it had been done by a blade in a barber's. She noted to herself, she must cut off the rest when she got home; this is probably a long overdue sign.

Chat was right, the fire had completely disappeared from the building above leaving it as a charred wreck, the ceiling partially caved in and the features which would have made it a home now turned to ash and smoke. However, the air was clear and cool, besides the faint smell of char rising from the ground. It was surreal, Marinette thought, it looked like a wasteland but it seemed so peaceful.

Outside, the crowd had grown but most were busying themselves with buckets of water carried from the nearby Thames, too late of course but it was all they could have done. While Chat explained what had happened and where the final resident had been left, Marinette was quickly ambushed by the girl in red.

"Ladybug! I can't believe I'm actually talking to you, I'm your biggest fan!" The girl seemed to be practically hopping up and down before Marinette as she spoke. "I know your secret by the way." She added, conspiratorially.

Marinette started. "W-what do you mean?" She said, trying no the meet the girl's intense gaze.

"He told me." The girl nodded towards Chat, who was enjoying the crowd's appreciation of his hard work on the other side of the street. "That you're a woman under that mask."

"Oh, uh, alright. But you know I'd rather that not be common knowledge. I would appreciate you keeping it a secret, um." Marinette stopped herself before she could speak the girl's name.

"Alya, my name is Alya. And your secret is safe as can be with me, Ladybug." Alya stood up to her full height, which was not much next to Marinette.

Marinette smiled at Alya and nodded, turning back to Chat who met her gaze and joined her on the curb. She tried not to look back at Alya; she feared their eyes might meet again and she would mess up. Alya was a close friend and she would prefer for her to not worry about the clumsy Marinette running around London in a mask. Just being a fan of the masked a hero was good enough for Marinette's conscience, she thought as she noticed a small white butterfly bob over a nearby hedgerow.

"Race you to the bridge." Chat's voice pulled her out of her thoughts suddenly. He was clearly still raring to go, with energy to spare after the event of the night. Marinette however was drained. She was surprised her mask and fan hadn't dissolved already from the strain she had put on them earlier.

"I'd really rather not. My magic is almost at its breaking point, I really don't want my identity to be revealed to these people." She waved her hand to the crowd behind them.

Chat looked disappointed; his shoulders drooped and he was about to open his mouth again before Marinette stopped him.

"And I'm tired Chat. Really _really_ tired. I'm barely even staying awake right now." Marinette said. She saw he was still not convinced so began to speak again but before she knew it she had been scooped up off her feet. She whipped her head around to shout her rejection but he had already left the ground behind them.

Marinette's heart jumped into her throat. Below her feet the city whipped past like a carpet beneath her. The wind threw her hair behind her, baring her face to the night air.

She realised how tired she was, how much her body ached from the fight and how the air in the building had clouded her mind and dizzied her. The clear air up here made her feel so much _cleaner_ and numbed the pain in her shoulder just a little as she took a deep breath of the freezing air.

She leant forward in Chat's arms into the wind, eager to go faster, fly faster, move faster into this clean empty space above the filthy city. She could see each individual speck of light below her in the mesh of roads and houses like a map had been laid out in front of her.

Chat seemed to sense her longing and jumped from a nearby rooftop with as much might as he could force out of his already tired legs.

The force of the leap shoved Marinette into Chat's arms making her gasp in surprise. Chat smiled and shifted his hold to allow her to get a better view of the city below them.

Marinette gaped at the view. She could see every neighbourhood she had ever visited in one blink of her eye, the street where her parents' bakery stood, the road where she and Alya had first met on Christmas Eve over five years ago, the park on the other side of the river where her family would watch birds in the summer. She imagined her whole life being laid out in front of her like the city was, moving too fast for her to keep up with, so many little moments stacked next to each other like the lights blinking and flickering along the lines of the city.

Marinette winced as the cut on her cheek bit from the cold air running over her face. She touched her face gingerly, her hand coming back with a red smear on a fingertip. She drew her eyes away from the city and tapped Chat's arm, signalling the end of the little journey.

He brought them down on the embankment of the Thames, near a small marketplace which appeared to be still open to a few late customers. The noise of bustling customers and chattering stall-keepers reached them as a muffled murmur over the roar of the river.

Marinette stumbled as her feet touched the ground again.

"Are you going to tell me your name? Or are you just Ladybug to me?" Chat leant casually against a large chunk of stone rubble with his arms crossed.

"That will do for now I think." Marinette said, looking around the surrounding area, trying to get her bearings. She reckoned she could get home perhaps in a few minutes if she hurried on foot; the bakery was only a few blocks from this area.

"So, does this mean you aren't alone?"

"Excuse me?" Marinette turned to face Chat who was not looking at her anymore, but watching the black water of the river run past below his feet.

"I mean. We are the only two who can fight the akuma right? It's only logical we team up from now on." Chat said.

"You really didn't do anything back there which I could not have done myself." Marinette looked at Chat quizzically.

"Who knows when you could need my help, lady."

Marinette laughed and turned to look at the glistening river with a smile.

"Is that a no?"

"I appreciate your assistance, Chat."

"Oh what was that?" Chat put a hand up to his ear and leaned towards Marinette. "Was that a thank you I heard? The great ladybug, thanking _me_?" He spun around putting his arms up in play-astonishment.

Marinette sighed and laughed as he danced along the bank around her. He almost got a hold of her hand before she danced away from his arm and jumped away into the darkness of the city beyond the river, laughing.

Chat smiled at the space she had disappeared into and dropped into a sitting position on the gravel and sand. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, his shoulder dropping as the excitement of the evening left him finally.

As he closed his eyes for a moment, a short green burst of light ran from his feet to his head and his black mask and coat melted away leaving a brown jacket over a simple white shirt behind.

The boy sitting by the river dropped onto his back, looked up to the night sky above him and laughed. "What a woman."

* * *

Marinette rushed out of the bakery doors with her arms stuffed with baskets of buns and loafs, breath heavy from the morning's work. She pushed the door closed behind her with her hip and jogged into the street, trying to keep the pile of bread balanced in her arms while she kept her eyes on the view of the street beyond the mountain of food.

The stack of bread tipped dangerously for a moment before she nudged it back into a safe position with her nose.

As she neared the cart waiting for her, her foot snagged on a loose rope from a nearby building under construction. Her leg suddenly jerked out from underneath her as she yelped in surprise.

The hard ground met her with enough force to knock her breath out of her, and to send each roll and bun and loaf skidding away from her across the street and into the gutter next to her head.

She had landed hard on her left shoulder, the one she had damaged badly the night before. She hissed in pain and tested her shoulder for blood. All clear, the bandage she had put together last night out of an old apron had done her well enough for now.

As she reached out to the nearest bread loaf a hand picked it up before she could grab it. Marinette quickly sat up and was beginning to open her mouth to shout thief when she saw the stranger squat next to her and slowly place another bun in his arms. He smiled at her and handed the basket of bread to the man waiting in the cart beside them.

Marinette was speechless. Maybe I hit my head too, she thought.

"You'd better watch out there. You could get hurt, miss." The boy said as he stood up and offered Marinette his hand.

Marinette gawked up at the boy.

"Uh." The boy looked down at her, worried. Marinette quickly shook herself and took his hand to be pulled up next to him.

"My name's Adrien, I was heading into your family's bakery just now for some breakfast. Can I trouble you for a couple small bread rolls?" Adrien said and smiled at her.

"I-uh…ye…of course! Right this way." Marinette walked back to the bakery quickly, keeping in time with Adrien despite the pulsing pain in her shoulder. "I'm Marinette; I work here every day from seven 'till six. We're open Mondays through Saturday if you ever want for your breakfast here." Marinette said cheerfully, plastering a bright smile over her stunned face.

Adrien smiled at her and opened the bakery door for the two of them. "I'll keep it in mind, Marinette. The food from here is fantastic." He said.

Marinette felt her face begin to heat up. She quickly ran over to the rows of goods lining one wall and grabbed a paper bag for Adrien's breakfast.

"That was two small rolls, yes?" Marinette asked, turning her head to watch Adrien as he gazed around the store.

"Yes please."

The bakery was one of Marinette favourite places in the city, the whole place had a warm glow to it, like the smell given off by the baking bread it made her feel safe. She smiled at the boy watching the rows and rows of golden brown bread in dozens of shapes and sizes lined up behind the counter.

"Here you are." Marinette handed the bag of bread over to Adrien who took it then immediately pressed it to his cheek.

"It's so warm!" He exclaimed and grinned at Marinette who tried her best not to burst into a grin at his glee. "And it smells incredible, thank you."

Adrien pressed a pound into Marinette palm. "I'll be back tomorrow morning with an even bigger order."

"Th-this is too much." Marinette looked at the pound coin; it was heavy in her hand and shinier than any other she had seen in the bakery.

"Keep the change Marinette; you hurt your shoulder anyway. Don't worry about it." Adrien said, dismissing Marinette's flustered look.

Marinette looked back down at the coin in her hand.

"Thank you."

Adrien began to walk out of the bakery before stopping and turning back to Marinette.

"You know, if you tied you hair up you may be able to avoid falling again."

Marinette frowned and opened her mouth in indignation; she had had enough of her hair anyway and was not ready to deal with someone pointing it out to her, but was silenced by Adrien swiftly walking behind her and pulling free the red ribbon she had tied around her neck that morning.

Before she could say another word, he nimbly gathered up her hair in his hands and tugged it into a neat ponytail behind her head. He walked around to face her again and smiled.

"There, much better."

Marinette was rendered speechless once again.

Adrien laughed and slapped Marinette on her uninjured shoulder. He beamed the bright smile of a proud hero, as if he had just pulled a drowning child out of the river.

For all Marinette's face told the world, he had.

For a moment, a look of confusion passed over Adrien's face when he saw the uneven lock of hair next to her ear but he quickly shook it away and stepped backwards to the door of the bakery.

"Goodbye, see you tomorrow!" Adrien said as he cheerfully made his way out of the store, leaving Marinette standing in the middle of the room, holding the pound coin and slowly taking deeper and deeper breaths while keeping her eyes on the spot in the window where he had disappeared out of sight.

Finally, she broke into a grin and pressed the coin into her apron's front pocket.

The day was beginning to look brighter already.


	3. A Soot Black Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette spends a day with her friend, Alya.  
> A new opponent faces off against Ladybug and Chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of suffering near the end, quite a bit of blood fair warning.  
> I had to use an original character for the akuma like before so don't expect anything too imaginative in terms of akuma-abilities.  
> Hope you like the combat in this one.

Marinette’s days seemed to blur together as winter approached. The cold afternoons she spent helping her parents out in the bakery became tougher and more tiring, leaving her fingers red and raw from the heavy lifting and cold, and her mind fried from the exhausting hours from dawn until the late dinners.

The shortening days made the city seem as if it were falling asleep under the thickening blanket of November dusk, while the weather during the day was surprisingly mild for the time of year as the sky was clear enough to be a bright crystal blue from horizon to horizon over Marinette’s head. The effect was mesmerizing and often had her staring directly up at the sky during work hours, earning a shout from her father or a less than graceful journey face first into the pavement.

However, the weather would remind the residents of London of the season by dumping up to 40cm of snow over the city.

Such a day brought a thin layer of snow over most of the city and a clean cold edge to the air, something which made even just walking outside feel healthier as it created the illusion of the air in London being clear from the perpetual smog and stench of industry.

After the arrival of the flurry the city appeared to be in monochrome, at least from an elevated view point, from street level the snow was already melting into the usual brown slush which either eventually slid into the gutter or formed a puddle of ice cold water and half melted lumps of snow. This would then be spiced up by the addition of used cigars, cigar packets, and lost items of assorted value.

A puddle such as this one was disturbed by a passing cart wheel, flung into the air by the force and thrown over the street in a shower of freezing cold water, drenching a young girl in brown overalls from head to foot.

“Oh my!” Exclaimed a girl in a thick red woollen jacket who had been standing less than a meter from the sodden girl yet had somehow evaded almost all of the tidal wave of gutter water. “Are you alright, Marinette?”

Marinette stood perfectly still, holding her arms out on either side of her body, letting the water drip from her fingertips to the ground. Her hair clung to her face which was held in a straight emotionless mask, her eyes glazed over and fixed on the cart as it retreated down the road.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Alya dabbed her hand onto Marinette’s face then immediately drew back from the cold surface of her skin in surprise. “Lord, you’re like ice. Let’s get you home and into some drier and cleaner clothes.” She said, taking Marinette’s hands and guiding her stunned friend down the street.

The air was chilly but there was fortunately no breeze that day, many passers-by were thoroughly wrapped up for the cold in thick winter coats and long heavy dresses. Several glanced at Marinette from under caps with concern. 

Marinette’s luck had never been stellar when it came to random events like this one; her luck was notorious among her friends and family. Alya was so used to Marinette’s incredible ability to attract misfortune that it was never a surprise when she fell flat on her face during work or lost a book after only one day of having borrowed it from Alya.

However, recently Marinette was getting into more and more little accidents than usual. Alya was becoming concerned about whether Marinette had been troubled by something. She had considered asking her about it but had not found a suitable moment thus far.

Alya brought Marinette into her house and up into her room.

It was small but large enough for her and Marinette to spend afternoons together throughout their childhood, playing with dolls dressed as princesses and princes and reading about faraway countries and mythical monsters. Alya’s parents were rarely at home and so the two girls often spent a couple hours a week relaxing in the room at the top of the house laughing and weaving stories of heroes and villains together. It was an old joke of theirs that Marinette’s bad luck couldn’t reach them when they were in that room.

Marinette collapsed onto Alya’s bed and groaned. “There’s nothing I can’t mess up.”

Alya pulled a towel out of a drawer and dumped it over Marinette’s dripping head; the action did not provoke any visible or audible response from the girl. She crossed her arms and stared down at Marinette. “You, miss, need to have more belief in yourself.”

“Anyone with luck as bad as mine would be this depressed, Alya.” Marinette said and rolled onto her stomach, pressing her face into the thick blanket covering the bed.

Alya sighed and walked over to sit next to the motionless form of Marinette. She sat for a moment before speaking again.

“Just because you’ve had a bad start to the morning doesn’t mean you should be lying in despair now. You can be strong willed.” Alya paused. “Like The Ladybug.”

Marinette turned her head to speak. “The Ladybug isn’t real, Alya.” Her voice was muffled by the blanket.

“They are real. I saw them a few weeks ago as a matter of fact.”

Marinette twisted her neck further to look at Alya’s face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I'm being serious.” Alya crossed her arms and grinned a wide grin of pride. “I even spoke to them.”

Marinette planted her face firmly back into the depths of the duvet.

Alya continued. “I happened to be near an incident that night and they turned up. But this time they weren’t alone, they had a companion. But that’s not really important. Ladybug spoke to me and I learnt a secret of theirs.”

Marinette jerked her head around to face Alya.

“You shouldn’t share peoples’ secrets without permission.”

Alya shook her head, her long brown hair brushing along the back of Marinette’s neck.

“I would never betray Ladybug. I’m not someone to run around sharing a dangerous secret of a person who trusted me with it.” Alya said.

“That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to be friends with a scoundrel such as yourself if that was the case.” Marinette poked her toe into Alya’s side and giggled.

Alya smiled, then dropped the expression and turned a sharp gaze towards Marinette.

“Speaking of secrets…”

Marinette slowly sat up and faced Alya. “What are you interrogating me for now?”

“I know you’ve been bothered by something recently, there’s no use hiding it from me, Marinette.”

Marinette raised her shoulders defensively. “It’s nothing really.”

Alya raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, I think it is something. Or someone.”

Marinette broke from Alya’s gaze. “Well, maybe I did meet someone recently.”

“That would explain it.”

“What does that mean?”

Alya grinned and flung her hand across her forehead in an overly dramatic swoon. “Marinette has fallen in love and just can’t seem to keep her mind off of this mysterious stranger. She is utterly and hopelessly smitten.” She glanced at Marinette from under her forearm to see her friend blushing furiously.

“He’s not mysterious. And he’s not a stranger. I’ll have you know I speak to him and see him regularly.” Marinette said, tugging on her hair distractedly.

Alya jumped forward on the bed, fascinated by this exciting new information. “You’re actually meeting him? Where do you meet? Is it the same place each time? For dinner dates? Or maybe at in the evenings… for a night-time meeting…” She became lost in intense thought while Marinette watched her, entertained.

“At mine, for breakfast.”

Alya frowned. “That’s…romantic. I guess.”

“He visits each morning now for his breakfast from our bakery. He’s really nice.” Marinette said. She looked out of the small window in the wall next to her and smiled. “He’s from a rich family but he’s kind to me. He even did my hair for me one morning. Each time he comes over I feel like my day can’t go wrong afterwards, he’s like a lucky charm of sorts.”

Alya reached over to pull the towel off Marinette’s head and tossed a mound of dry clothes next to her.

“That’s called being in love. Now, get yourself into some clean clothes miss, you’ll catch a cold.”

Alya’s room was always warmer than the rest of her home, due to it being on the top floor and the thick curtains hanging over the windows in the room. Despite this Marinette was now shivering noticeably and gladly took the change of clothes from beside her and began to peel off her sodden shirt and skirt.

The clothes Alya had given Marinette clung to her damp skin and rubbed along her arms as she tugged them onto her. While she struggled into the shirt Alya folded the towel back into a drawer with a smile on her lips. It was rare for the two of them to spend so much time at once at the other’s nowadays.

Once Marinette had her arms in both sleeves she began on the buttons down the front. It was remarkably fiddly as her fingers had begun to burn from the warmth provided by the room; her fingertips had reached a bright red and stung as she gripped each small metal fasten between them. She swore under her breath as another slipped from her grasp.

“Do you need help?” Alya was enjoying the performance.

Marinette didn’t look up from her shirt front. “No, I’ve got it.” She triumphantly popped the final button through its loop with a smile.

The skirt given by Alya was long dark and heavy, reaching to Marinette’s ankles and tugging on her hips as she finished buckling the ties at the waistline in order to pull in into its shape around her. It was an unfamiliar weight for Marinette, but it gave her a warm feeling in her chest. Alya’s clothes. Marinette smiled at the thought.

Alya pushed Marinette by the shoulders until they were standing in front of a full length mirror propped against the wall. The two looked like a matching pair, with near identical outfits and matching beaming faces.

“There, don’t you feel better now?” Alya said. She felt relieved by Marinette’s change in expression and couldn’t help but be proud of her success in lifting her friend’s spirits.

“Absolutely. Thanks for the clothes.” Marinette was well aware that Alya had given her more than the clothes for the day but could only bring herself to give a simple word of gratitude.

Alya turned from their reflection to look at Marinette and sighed.

“Something needs to be done about that hair.” She said.

Marinette lifted a clump of damp hair away from her face. It was no longer dripping but was still wet enough to send a chill down Marinette’s neck when she let it fall against her cheek.

“I’ll tie it up for you.” Alya said, holding up a brown ribbon waiting for Marinette to turn her back to her.

“No it’s fine. I’ll do it for myself.” Marinette took the ribbon from the hands of a stunned Alya and turned to face the mirror.

After a few quick movements Marinette had pulled the majority of her hair into a bun behind her head with the ribbon in a neat knot below it.

“Since when could you do that?” Alya asked. She had known Marinette’s struggles to keep her hair under control recently and had been offering to tie it for her often.

“I’ve been learning.” Marinette face became softened as she said it.

Alya grinned. “Could this be the morning bread boy rubbing off on my Marinette by any chance?”

Marinette looked at Alya with a face of honestly. “Perhaps. I’ve been doing my hair up by myself recently, it’s been a whole lot easier for me do get work done with it all out of my face.” She patted her hair cheerfully.

“You know, you would look good with pigtails.”

“Do you think so?”

* * *

The girls left Alya’s soon after Marinette realised she was a full hour behind her day’s schedule. The bakery had run out of fresh vegetables the previous day and Marinette had been given the task of collecting more by the end of the day.

The market was thankfully nearby Alya’s house and was not busy enough to slow Marinette down as she barrelled her way to the large stall selling miscellaneous fruit and vegetables. Alya was close behind, albeit with less energy.

Marinette loped up to the front of the stall and took in the display. An array of colours and textures was laid out in front of her, like a jewellery box filled with brightly coloured gems. The sight always sparked a curiosity in Marinette; the array reminded her of a parade she had seen images of when she was young, the dancers and performers wearing costumes so garishly gorgeous she could imagine them being as vibrant as the plumage of tropical birds despite the images being in monochrome.

“Miss, can I help you?” The stall keeper asked Marinette with an edge of impatience.

Marinette shook herself out of her daydream and pointed to a selection of peppers and onions, then moved down the stall into the fruit section to buy a small gift of a box of strawberries for her mother.

The bags of goods grew heavy in Marinette’s arms as she and Alya moved around the market. Marinette’s funds ran out soon after the vegetable stall but Alya continued to the far end of the marketplace in a hunt for a new scarf for herself. After searching the place thoroughly a small stall was found near the edge of the cluster of the market which satisfied Alya and ended the short expedition.

Marinette leaned against a nearby wall as Alya browsed the tabled laded with shawls and scarves of varying weights and materials. None seemed to be appealing to Alya so far.

“Are you going to pick one?” Marinette asked.

“I will, I will.” Alya continued her search through the piles of wool and cotton.

Marinette tilted her back to stare directly up at the sky, not clear but clouded over; making the air around her seem colder despite the thick clothing she had been given to wear. She watched the black speck of a bird spiral and flutter above her then wobble and swoop down behind a building as a gust of wind pushed it out of rhythm.

A moment later a breeze passed Marinette by, making her hair to tickle her cheeks and her skirt to twist around her ankles. The air carried by the wind caught Marinette’s attention once she took a breath in, it smelled odd to her.

She sniffed again, conscious of her strange behaviour, furrowing her brow trying to place the scent. It was pungent and slightly metallic, stinging her nostrils when she took a deeper breath through her nose.

Like sulphur. That can’t be right. Marinette wracked her brain as she became more agitated. She could feel something was off, something was about to happen.

“Alya! Look around, do you see anyth-”

Before Marinette could finish a loud crash erupted from behind her, shaking her to her knees.

A chunk of the wall she was leaning against a moment before had been blasted into the street, causing chaos throughout the market. Her shoulder gently reminded her of the little time her injury had been given to recover from the fire fight only a few weeks ago by throbbing and sending a wave of nausea throughout Marinette’s body for a short but painful moment.

Despite the many fights she had since then, none had forced her into a particularly tight spot like that one had, thanks to a little help on Chat’s part, so her shoulder had been gradually healing. But, due to the large number of bricks and rubble currently resting on top of her left arm and torso, the wound seemed to have reopened for now.

Her first thought was; Alya’s blouse is ruined. Damn. Her second was accompanied by the strong urge to get The Ladybug around as fast as she could.

Marinette shakily got to her feet and glanced around the scene; many stalls had been wrecked and knocked out of the path the blast had taken, most of the market goers had been missed by the rubble thankfully and were either quickly exiting the area or cowering under their collapsed stalls, such as Alya who could be seen kneeling behind a stand of books. Strangely enough, there was no danger in sight, no akuma or visible fight going on which could have triggered the blast.

Marinette turned away from the street to find cover from the view of the remaining people in the market, quickly finding shelter in a nearby alley.

Her shoulder thrummed with pain for a brief moment as she rested herself against the wall of the close to steady herself. Behind her, the sound of the voices from the market were becoming louder as people got over the immediate shock of the blast and began to work on retrieving anyone trapped from under stalls and rubble.

Marinette reached her hand up to her earrings but was stopped by a familiar voice from behind her. Her heart sank immediately.

“Hey, it’s dangerous to hide here. You could get trapped.”

Marinette tried her hardest not to grumble as a black figure stepped into the alley and trotted over to where she was standing, her arm still raised. Marinette wondered how long her streak of bad luck would last.

Chat grabbed Marinette’s wrist and pulled her back into the street. “You should run as fast as you can from this place. If your legs aren’t injured of course.”

“Who are you?” Marinette said, attempting to hide her frustration at Chat’s arrival although she suspected her grimace was already showing.

Chat looked down at Marinette who frowned back up.

“I’m Chat Noir. I’m a new hero in London and I'm going to save everyone here from oncoming danger.” Chat smiled widely as he said it, putting his hands on his hips proudly. Marinette groaned inwardly.

“Chat Noir means black cat, by the way.” He added.

“I’m aware.”

Marinette glanced at where she remembered Alya had been hiding; she was now helping a couple of people who had been trapped under some crates earlier. She felt bad for leaving Alya in the mess of the street but steeled herself as she turned back to Chat.

“I’ll be heading off then, uh, Chat.” She cringed at her play-timidness. There was no helping it, there’s no etiquette in talking back to someone you’ve just met.

Chat gave a small salute and joined the clean-up nearby.

Once she was a block away, Marinette finally had the chance to touch her red earrings, activating the magic she had been itching to use for the last few minutes. After a rush of red and rose scented air Alya’s blood stained blouse and muddied skirt was replaced with a crisp black shirt, crimson jacket and bottoms.

The change in attire immediately made Marinette feel much stronger; even if it was just psychological she couldn’t help but stand up a little bit straighter.

Suddenly she became aware of a difference in the balance of the weight of her hair, she reached her hand up to her head to find her hair was no longer in a single ponytail but was in two pigtails behind her ears, tied with two red ribbons. Strange, Marinette thought, that hasn’t happened before now.

She tested her shoulder, rolling her arm in a small circle gently. It didn’t seem to be bleeding, at least not through the jacket so far, and the pain was lessening already. Marinette concluded her investigation, that her shoulder was well enough for now, and began to jog back into the now nearly empty street.

Everyone who had been previously trapped under rubble or otherwise had left the scene by Chat’s guidance, besides from Alya who remained in the centre of the road in a heated conversation with Chat, who seemed to be getting quite agitated by her.

“I’m telling you, my friend Marinette must be around here somewhere. She wouldn’t leave me here.”

“I’m telling _you,_ she ran off in that direction.” Chat said and pointed down the street, incidentally pointing directly at Marinette’s bewildered face in the process.

 “I told her to get out of here, just like you sho…” he trailed off once he realised the masked newcomer at the other end of his outstretched arm. “Oh. Hey lady.”

Marinette walked past the stunned Chat and spoke to Alya directly.

“Alya, wasn’t it? You don’t need to worry about your friend, I told her to get away from here myself. I’m sorry if she was worrying you though.” Marinette said.

“Oh, then…” Alya seemed to be struggling to accept the idea.

Marinette put a hand on Alya’s shoulder. “I promise, once this is over you’ll see her again.” She smiled. “Now, please go home, Alya.”

Alya resigned herself and nodded, walking past Ladybug and speeding up to run down the street out of sight.

Marinette turned to face Chat. “Where’s the akuma then?”

Chat seemed to become ruffled by the question. “Err, you see, lady, the akuma in question…”

“Chat.” Marinette said, trying her best to imitate her mother’s stern voice.

“Well, I was fighting them over near waterloo, and it was going _well.”_ Chat emphasised the latter point. “I had him in a corner when, well he threw a super strong attack at me. That’s what caused the blast.”

“And where is he now?” Marinette asked.

“After the smoke cleared I couldn’t find him anywhere, I suppose he headed off to wherever he had unfinished business.” Chat said.

“Did he say anything about where he could have gone to?”

“No, unfortunately. Do you have an idea?” Chat peered at Marinette with honest curiosity. The chase was half the fun with her around.

“Yes. You’re going to sniff him out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you smell that?” Marinette held her hand out as if she were presenting a gift to him.

Chat stuck his noise to the air and sniffed. “Egg?”

“That’s gunpowder. If you can follow that scent then we can find him again.”

“Oh, alright then.” Chat said. He didn’t always understand Ladybug’s plans but they tended to unfailingly follow through with a sort of miraculous grace. It was something he admired to his absolute extent. 

“We should hurry up, Chat. We don’t want to keep our dear akuma waiting.”

Adrien stood up to his full height and adjusted his collar. Having Ladybug at his side lifted his spirits remarkably, though not to his own surprise. Seeing her face just once in a few days was enough to remind him of why he was putting the mask on each time anyway.

“After you, lady.”

* * *

 

The Blacksmith had reached his final destination.

The hospital looked more like a prison than anything, the brick walls black as tar and most windows so grimy they couldn’t fully be described or used as windows. The brick walls surrounding the buildings were so filthy the red clay had become soot black and covered in a thick layer of dirt carried by the smog across the city which would come off as a smear with a wipe of the finger. Not recommended as the filth clung to brick, skin and clothing alike.

The day was slow for this hospital so many doctors and nurses had been taking long breaks outside the front gate smoking or reading last week’s newspaper nicked from the reception area.

That day, only one had been taking a moment of peace from the filthy and chaotic atmosphere inside, in the peace of the backstreet behind the hospital.

Dr Murphy took a drag from his cigar, closing his eyes for some seconds before returning his gaze to the street before him, only to have it land on an unpleasantly familiar individual standing on the opposite curb. However, the sight of the man let a feeling of acute unease seep into his body. There was little the doctor had not seen and lived through in his career at the hospital and so it took much to make him feel particularly uncomfortable and yet looking at the man across the street left him cold to the bone.

“Is that you, Mr Lowther? I didn’t think you’d turn up here again.” The doctor said, hesitantly. The man was beginning to move towards him now.

“Doctor. Do you remember the day my brother was first brought to you?”

The doctor figured the man was drunk and turned to walk back into the building.

Before he could wall more than a couple of steps a large black claw-like hand closed around his neck, forcing him to back up into a brick wall with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.

“Unfortunately for you, doctor, I am now The Blacksmith and I will hunt down the men who wronged me and my brother.”

Up close Murphy could see that Lowther’s face was covered by a strangely shaped mask, like something from a costume shop. The idea seemed outlandish and was almost comedic to the doctor, up until when the hand around his throat began to glow orange and heat up against his skin.

“I will burn you to a crisp, like my brother had been.”

The claw’s glow intensified and Murphy gasped in pain. It felt like a hot poker had been pressed against his neck.

“ _Goodbye Doctor_.”

Suddenly the shattering noise of a projectile burying itself in the wall next to the two men rang out terrifying close to the doctor’s ear. Murphy edged his head to the side to get a look at the foreign object which had narrowly missed him a moment ago.

He saw it was a long thin staff-like item, the handle of which was shaped like a lion’s head in mid-roar. The cane was still quivering in place from the impact.

“I’ll have to stop you right there, sir. I’m sorry for the interruption.” A singsong voice called from somewhere above the akuma and doctor.

The Blacksmith leapt away from the doctor and span around in the middle of the road to find the speaker.

“Where are you? You troublesome cat!” The Blacksmith shouted at the empty street. The filthy bugger can’t be far off. “Come out and fight me, you were too weak to face me last time and you’ll be too weak again now kitty.”

The doctor remained frozen in place with his back against the wall. The skin on his neck had been burnt to the point of blistering; a trail of blood had soaked into his crisp white collar and grown a rich red patch at the front of his shirt resembling a rose pinned to the collar of a suit.

The Blacksmith continued to yell threats into the street. “Are you a coward? Get out here and fight me, you filthy stray!”

A movement in his peripheral vision caught the doctor’s attention. Before he could open his mouth in surprise a hand clamped down over his mouth.

Chat pressed a finger to his lips slowly. _Quiet._

Murphy’s widened his eyes in shock but did not cry out. Chat pointed down the street away from the akuma in the street and mouthed _run_. The doctor nodded hurriedly and rushed past Chat, running as fast as his legs could take him away from the monster behind him.

Chat gripped the staff he had lodged into the wall besides him and yanked it out, splintering the brick wall and finally catching The Blacksmith’s attention.

“There you are.” The akuma growled, clenching his huge hands into red hot fists.

Chat shifted his weight casually onto his other leg, resting his staff on a shoulder infuriatingly nonchalantly and called out to the air above him. “Lady. I found him.”

A second masked figure dropped into the street.

Marinette patted Chat on the shoulder. “Good kitty.” She took in the sight of the akuma before her who growled at the growing number of opponents.

“You troublesome children with your magic tricks. I sure hope you won’t mind me taking those trinkets off your hands once I'm done with you.” The Blacksmith said.

He could have been mistaken for a normal industrial worker, unlike many of the creatures and villains she had faced he looked almost human. That was, until one had been given a closer look at his face.

The usual mask covered the majority of his face but the rest appeared to be red hot, glowing from under a black hood. His chest was bulked out by heavy looking armour reminiscent of illustrations Marinette had seen of medieval knights. However, this one was dripping molten metal onto the cobblestone road from between plates, sending thin fingers of steam up from the damp ground.

“What is it he can do?” Marinette asked tentatively. The akuma was unnerving to watch even from this distance.

“Anything he touches will heat up like a poker in a fireplace, so keep away from his hands. He’ll also throw strong blasts of heat if you give him enough time to aim at you. So don’t stand stationary for too long.”

“Like you did?”

“I’ll be careful this time. Promise.”

The akuma snarled at the two heroes. Marinette smiled and flicked her fan open in a snap.

“What is it with these guys and explosions?” Marinette muttered to herself as she began the walk towards the akuma, gaining velocity until she was running headlong towards him. A handful of steps away from the man, she leapt up over his head and pressed her hand holding the fan down at the moment his arm reached up to grab her in mid-air.

The Blacksmith’s arm was soon engulfed in red mist which solidified into a thick ribbon around his hand. The ribbon quickly wound around this forearm then tightened into bondage from his elbow to his fingers, dowsing the orange glow under the wrapping which faded from a red into a dull grey as it transformed from raw magic into metal casing.

The akuma’s arm quickly dropped to the ground under the sudden weight of the burden. “What is this?” The man barked, trying to lift his arm up from the ground unsuccessfully.

Marinette’s chest warmed with pride, this was the fastest she had incapacitated an opponent in weeks. However, Marinette knew he could easily melt the lead bond she had created; the shock of the magic would wear off soon, so she quickly raised her fan again.

“Time for a lucky charm don’t you think?” She said spinning the fan around above her head, letting the red haze burst into the air and pool onto the floor. After a quick flash of light a red and black spotted hammer dropped into her hand.

“Blunt force is the way to go, huh?” Chat said from where he remained standing off to the side. There was little he had to do in this situation in terms of assistance so he had come to the decision to wait for Ladybug to call for him. For the moment, he stood with his hands ready on his cane and a small knot of anxiety lying at the bottom of his stomach.

Marinette frowned down at the tool in her hands. Usually that spell would create an item of obscure use, such as an umbrella or a mirror. Or on one memorable occasion, a tin of shoe polish.

A claw hammer tends not to leave much to the imagination.

Marinette shook herself and hefted the hammer in her hand.

“What are you going to use that little tool for? Huh? Little bug?” The Blacksmith spat out at Marinette. His hand was beginning to glow under the cover of the bondage over his right arm. “ _Fix me?_ ”

Marinette suddenly swung the hammer over arm for the blunt end to land heavily on a small chink in the akuma’s armour. A section of the armour shattered easily under the hit, shards of steel falling to the ground in a clatter.

The man shrieked in anger and lashed out to Marinette with his free arm. She easily dodged his lunge and stamped her foot down over his wrist.

From between the two shattered plates Marinette could see the black butterfly, lodged in the man’s chest and pulsing softly in time with his heartbeat.

She grimaced and swung her arm back again for a second blow.

As let her arm fall down with the momentum of the hammer’s weight a small movement from the akuma caught her attention. However, she could not react fast enough.

A startlingly loud crashing noise stopped Marinette’s heart between beats. A yelp from the direction of Chat started it again.

In the instance that she had begun to lower the hammer over The Blacksmith’s armour he had spent every drop of his remaining energy to raise his bound arm above him to catch the force of her blow. The bindings had shattered in place of his metal armour almost effortlessly.

The freedom given by the simple movement had allowed him to grab her ankle and swing her weight around in a full half circle and throw her into the side of a nearby building.

Marinette barely had time to register what had happened in that moment before she was flung into a shockingly hard surface and had every breath of air shoved out of her lungs in a painful split-second. Marinette gulped for air but only choked out a silent gasp as she crumpled onto the ground.

Chat watched the scene from where he stood.

His chest folded into a thousand shapes that pressed up against his throat. Most parts of his mind didn’t recognise the form of Ladybug lying at the base of a shattered wall, or the vast figure of the akuma moving towards him.

“I-I don’t get it.”

“I don’t think you ever will, kitten.” The man grinned from under his hood and raised his glowing hand. The air shimmered in the heat over his arms.

Chat eyes darted from between Ladybug and the oncoming akuma, gasping and trying to push more words out his tightening throat.

“Wh-how did she-” Chat’s words were cut short by a searing pain across his chest. He stumbled back a step, staring unblinkingly at the ground at his feet.

The Blacksmith laughed wholeheartedly at the collapse of the two heroes. “This was almost too easily!” He grinned wider as the shoulders of the masked hero in black shuddered and he fell down to a kneel.

Adrien clutched a hand over his chest. There was barely any pain coming from the area he had been hit, only a swirling mist of nausea filling him up from his feet to his head. He drew his hand back from his chest for a moment then immediately slapped it back over the spot with a hiss through clenched teeth.

Blood.

Should there have been that much blood?

The akuma stood towering over Chat, flexing his shimmering fingers and grinning from ear to ear.

Weak.

Behind him Marinette opened her eyes. Her head thrummed from the impact with the wall. She turned her head to find Chat, finding him bowing down before the black and orange figure of The Blacksmith.

She shakily pushed herself up on her elbows and shouted out to Chat. “Chat! Please get up!”

Chat’s head jerked up at her voice and his eyes found focus again at the sight of her moving and breathing.

The Blacksmith snarled at Ladybug and turned back to Chat.

“I’ll finish you off first then.” He reached down to Chat’s head before he could react or move out of the way and grabbed the boy’s face in his inhumanly large hand. “Goodbye.”

Chat felt his whole body being lifted off the ground by the akuma’s grip around his skull, his legs dragging across the cobbles then dangling in air.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't shout out.

Why couldn't he move his arms?

Why couldn't he look away from that man’s eyes?

“Say hello to my brother for me, won’t you?”

Chat’s face began to heat up under the contact of the akuma’s hand. His cheeks stung, then throbbed, then burned, then burst as red hot flowers of pain bloomed across his vision.

Marinette dragged herself by her hands across the ground with her eyes fixed on the akuma like two cold blue pebbles under a curtain of black hair. Her legs felt numb and her shoulder had reopened for the second time that day and a cut had appeared over her right eye running blood into her eyes and turning he sight into a red blur. But the pain only seemed to scratch a faint pulsing rhythm at the back of her mind.

She gripped her fan in a shaking hand and gritted her teeth. She didn't know if that arm was injured or bleeding, she wasn't looking at it. Her eyes didn't leave Chat’s shivering body in the grasp of the akuma as she heaved herself to her feet.

That was not how he was going to leave her. She had barely had a chance to enjoy fighting with a partner yet. 


	4. A Storm Grey Recollection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette continues to search for a way to defeat the unimaginably strong akuma before her and save Chat from his grasp. She is horrified by inevitable choice she must make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I finally escape from the evil clutches of exams.  
> How does one write a dream sequence? Who know?

How long does it take to know someone before you are ready to give your life for them?

After one day you can recognise their features and movements as more than an individual in a crowd.

After one week you see them as more than a face and a name.

After one month you understand them as more than a bundle of habits, mannerisms, preferences and allergies.

After three short months Adrien had fallen in love with a girl with no name or face faster and truer than he ever could have expected from himself.

He choked back a cry as his vision finally faded into a buzzing grey blur which flooded down to fill his entire being. His fingers tingled and numbed as if the air around him had dropped to mid-winter temperature.

Adrien tried to lift an arm up to pull away the ice cold sensation from his face but his arm wouldn’t move. Nothing would. He wondered if he had fallen into a snow drift.

That would explain it, wouldn’t it?

Just like he had when he was a kid, when he had been playing in the snow with a daughter of his father’s associates and hadn’t watched his footing, tripped and fallen face first into a deep pile of thick fluffy snow. Chloe hadn’t been able to help him out so he had been lying in a freezing bed of ice and snow for several minutes before being rescued.

His tiny mittens had been soaked through entirely to his fingers and he was shivering uncontrollably for a half hour after being pulled from the drift. His mother wrapped him in layers upon layers of wool and fur to warm him up and placed him in front of the kitchen’s largest hearth. She had almost fainted when she had heard of what had happened to him.

She had always been so easily worried over him.

His mother.

She had held him for hours that day. In her arms, in the blankets, in front of orange-gold flames. He had never remembered feeling more warm and loved than in that moment.

The memory warmed Adrien like a small match had been set in his chest. It seemed inviting, like the pull sleep has on you after one long exhausting day. He lingered on the blissful image for a moment more before it shattered into shards of ice as he heard a voice pierce through his groggy thoughts.

“Let him go!” Ladybug charged forward, holding her closed fan up like a dagger pointing directly at the head of the akuma.

Before The Blacksmith could turn his head to react to the suddenly mobile girl behind him she had dropped to a slide, gliding swiftly past the huge legs of the man and spinning around to stand directly beside the motionless Chat.

“You will let him go.” She commanded.

The akuma grinned. “That’s fine, he’s already finished anyway.” He dropped Chat who crumpled instantly onto the ground like a doll.

Adrien gasped as his vision swam back before his eyes. The freezing cold which had coated him earlier quickly transformed into a dull ache throughout his body, a throbbing pain in his chest and after a few moments, a searing agony spreading from his mask which felt to be digging red hot claws into the flesh and bone of his face.

He opened his mouth and screwed his eyes shut as the pain stabbed through his eyes and poured through his thoughts.

Marinette glanced down at the crying form of Chat but quickly ducked away to dodge a swing of the akuma’s arm before she could act to help. She straightened up again and raised her fan, keeping her face unmoved by the sounds Chat was making below her or the stinging in her shoulder.

“Get over here so I can squash you, little bug.” The akuma growled, advancing and reaching out to Marinette again.

Marinette ducked under his arm and put as much force as she could into jabbing her fan upwards, under his still outstretched arm to hit the damaged area of armour. It didn’t break, although a small crunching sound indicated a small success from the move despite the fight still not ending fast enough.

Marinette cursed under her breath and quickly went for a second blow to the same area.

The butt of the fan finally broke through the armour and sent a web of fractures across the front and back of the akuma’s chest. The whole chest plate shattered, falling to the pavement in black steaming fractures.

The akuma roared and swiped at Marinette, his forearm connecting with the side of her skull and sending her rolling off to the side.

“You-you filthy girl,” The akuma choked on his blind rage and stumbled, grasping his exposed black rock. “You have no idea what I’ll do to you.” He approached Marinette and raised an arm above where she lay then closed his hand with a snarl. The fist quickly began to glow and distort the air above it.

Before he could throw the blast of heat, Marinette swiped her hand behind her back to dig her fingers into the dirt lying between the cobbles. She flung her handful of dust and gravel into the akuma’s face with a small flutter of glee in her chest.

The Blacksmith hissed at the cloud of dirt on his face and in his eyes, hesitating for just enough time for Marinette to land the final blow.

She closed the space between her and the villain with a grim smile on her lips and her fan gripped in one hand held before her chest. Prying the rock from his chest was surprisingly straightforward despite how deeply embedded it seemed, it fell from the akuma’s chest with a small tinkle after she had wedged her fan between it and the mess of black veins covering The Blacksmith’s skin and jerked it out. The akuma silently collapsed to the ground as she caught it in her hand and crushed it into a shower of dark violet dust.

“I free you from evil.”

At the sound of her voice Chat lifted a heavy eyelid to see Marinette wave a red and black blur above her head, past a black butterfly flickering away from her. It was quickly caught up in the red gust and disappeared from his view.

He tried to lift his head to speak but the movement was crushed under a wave of pain throbbing through his head.

Marinette flinched at the sounds of gasping behind her and quickly dropped to her knees beside Chat.

“Can you hear me?” She asked in a low whisper. “Can you hear my voice Chat?” Marinette lifted his head up, cradling the back of his neck in her hand.

“I can hear you.” He answered weakly. His teeth had been stained red.

Marinette gingerly touched her hand to his shirt front; her fingers came back damp with blood. She quickly closed her hand looking away from the blots of red and desperately searched over Chat’s body for a sign of injury.

“Where does it hurt,” she tugged at his now sodden shirt in an attempt to get to the large slash across his chest. “Chat you need to tell me where it hurts.”

Chat smiled weakly, staring blankly at the sky above him. “Woah there, lady. Moving a little fast aren’t we?”

Marinette glared at him but swallowed her frustration and tried to meet his gaze. “Can you feel this?” She touched the pad of her index finger gently onto his chest near the growing stain.

“Not at all.” His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before Marinette shook his shoulders. Chat focussed his eyes on her face with an effort.

“Stay awake, okay? Just hold on…” She began to panic. He was passing out again, what could she do? She didn’t have any magic she could use to heal him. That’s not how her magic worked. And it’s not like she carried a first-aid kit around town. Or knew how to fix something like this.

Marinette held her breath for a few seconds trying to clear her head, and began to think her situation through.

He wasn’t healing immediately, like her injuries usually did when she was in uniform. The hit he took to the chest wasn’t the problem, it was the mask fixed to his face which had been touched by the akuma and was still burning through his skin again and again. No matter what she did about his chest wound, nothing would heal until his mask had stopped hurting him.

“Umm, uh…” Marinette turned her head around, searching the street around them for something anything to cool the mask down. All the snow had melted now so there was no chance of a makeshift icepack. For a moment the image of her dunking Chat’s head into the Thames appeared in Marinette’s mind. She shook the thought away. He’d just be poisoned anyway. He’d be better off washing his face in gutter water.

Then her eyes fell on the claw hammer lying on the pavement near to the unconscious and newly de-akumised Blacksmith.

Marinette’s heart dropped into her stomach.

That was one option.

The idea of there possibly being any others disappeared quickly after Chat groaned and shifted in her arms. There was no time to look for an alternative.

She began to feel sick. No way was that why the tool was summoned in the first place, the item created was always used to defeat the akuma not to help herself. If this was a new feature of her magic, then why wasn’t it creating a first-aid kit? Or an anti-akuma-magic balm? This was something much crueller.

And it was a stupid idea. It would probably only injure him more.

But the mask needed to be removed or he wouldn’t recover from the burns, and he clearly didn’t have the mental coherence to dispel his getup, or use his own magic to destroy the mask.

Before she knew it the claw-hammer was in her hands, Chat’s head resting on her folded knee.

“Oh wow I am actually doing this.” Marinette muttered. She felt her throat had dried up; her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

Chat’s eyes fluttered open. “What was that?”

“Chat, close your eyes again.”

He frowned then caught his breath as he saw the tool resting in her hand.

Marinette glanced at the sharp point of the claw end. “This is going to sting.”

*

The big grandfather clock in the entrance hall of Adrien’s home made the loudest and most striking sound of his childhood. The knocking noise of the pendulum swinging back and forth would echo so far around the hall and up the grand staircase it could be heard from up in his own bedroom on quiet nights.

At a young age Adrien would greet that clock in the hall like an old friend, it didn’t ever change or leave the house and the pretty carvings up above the face had dragons and flowers and people dancing in them. Like in his fairy-tale books. He couldn’t reach up to them but he would watch them, imagine tracing them with his pudgy little fingers.

A half hour past one in the morning. Tuesday. Father is in the new town on most important business, so the house is empty.

Adrien is lying in his bed, still. He gazes at the ceiling above him with quiet but undivided interest. It’s painted a dull storm grey like a clouded sky, with delicate carvings of vines wrapped around faces pulled into grotesque and vivid expressions. At each corner of the ceiling a face opens its mouth to let the stems and unfurling flowers spill out and begin the pattern twisting and knotting above him until it reaches the centre where it meets the small ornamented lantern dangling over the centre of the room, currently unlit.

Adrien adores the patterns carved there; he would follow the paths of the vines stems and leaves with his eyes until he fell asleep.

But he can’t fall asleep tonight. Strange, it’s so quiet.

Adrien swings his legs off his bed and lets his feet dangle over his plush carpeted floor. Slowly his toes dip into the fabric then sink in until he is standing upright in a pale blue nightgown facing his open bedroom door.

This is all very strange.

Once in the corridor adjoining most of the bedrooms in the building he starts walking off to the right, where the staircase leading down to the entrance hall begins.

His feet are bare so he feels himself shivering from the cold, his shoulders shaking a little as he nears the stairway and his eyes aching from being up so late.

How strange.

The clock isn’t making any noise.

Adrien is suddenly standing before the towering grandfather clock in the hall, but he hears no clunking sound coming from the pendulum, despite its swinging and the ticks of the clock face above him.

A hand passes the 12 mark directly overhead Adrien’s upturned face as a sudden throbbing pain catches him off-guard. A headache spears its way through his skull and forces him to look away from the clock face and screw his eyes shut. The pain only worsens and pushes a whimper out of the small boy’s throat.

He grasps his head in his hands, seeing red and gold flashes dart across his vision as his eyes drip through his fingers like candlewax, falling down in red drops which sizzle and spark little dancing cinders across the marble floor.

A huge force is crushing his skull from front to back, pushing all thoughts or panic from out of his mind with an overwhelming strength like a hammer pressing down on him. The tips of his fingers and feet begin to tingle with a sensation similar to pins and needles, numbing them and bringing a wave of nausea over his entire body.

As he prepares himself to release the nausea, the pain begins to ebb away. His mind clears and he pries his hands from around his face, opening his eyes slowly and lifting them to look straight ahead at the glass window before the swinging pendulum.

An unfamiliar face looks back at him. It’s older, with longer hair and strange black clothes.

Furthermore, this face is drenched in blood dripping down from his brow to his chin in a red curtain almost making any expression unreadable.

The face came into focus and was finally recognised.

That’s Adrien.

Adrien.

“Adrien.”

“Chat.”

Adrien jolted awake. His hands rushed up to his face immediately, finding a soft smooth surface rather than the hard rough one of his mask over the area surrounding his eyes and nose.

“It’s off.”

“Yes,” Marinette said with a sigh. “It’s off. And you should be able to recover now. So…” She looked carefully at Chat. “You were okay with all that? You went to a ‘happy place’?”

Ladybug was sitting cross-legged on the ground next to where Adrien was lying, looking down at him rather concerned. Besides a few scratches to her face and neck she did not appear to be injured, which put Adrien at ease, if only a little. He noticed she had one hand resting gently on her left shoulder, the injured one.

Darn. It can’t be good for that wound to keep being reopened. He thought to himself, why is it she’s hurt again? It was me who faltered.

“Chat?”

“What?” Chat kept his hand over where his mask used to be. “Oh, yes, very happy, very okay. I’m fine.”

Marinette frowned. He didn’t sound fine. His voice wobbled like he could burst into tears or throw up at any moment. Preferably the first over the latter, she was sitting very near to him.

As she opened her mouth to ask again, he pushed himself to his knees. His hand remained firmly over his upper face as he unsteadily got back onto his feet. It was a strange choice, his face was already covered completely with blood from the damage his mask had done, his hair stained and matted over his eyes to the point where Marinette could barely tell where his hair began and face ended. She wondered if she had done a poor job of removing the mask. Perhaps he’s still in pain.

“You did a good job.” He said, facing away from her. He stood up straighter now, twisting his neck from side to side and taking deeper slower breaths.

Marinette stood up to follow him. “Hey Chat, does it hurt? If it does-”

Chat held up a hand to stop her. “No need to worry lady, I’m tougher than I look.” He said with the usual swelling confidence. “It probably won’t even scar.”

It was good to see he was back to normal; the arrogance she had grown to recognise was back in his posture, even his voice was fuller sounding after he had stood up.

Chat swept a hand over his face after a slight hesitation and muttered under his breath, “Dear lord I hope it doesn’t scar…”

As Marinette walked up to him she saw he had placed a new mask over his face with the hand movement. It looked identical to the previous. “Don’t worry,” she said, mimicking his assurance. “It’s taken much more than that to leave a mark on _me_.”

“Care to share?”

“Maybe another day. You should get home now; you’ve been through enough today.” Marinette said, smiling at Chat from under her fringe.

“I think we both deserve a break, lady.” Chat grinned down at her brightly, his eyes sparkling much more than what she could have expected. The effect was only slightly dampened by the large red stain on his face.

He turned his face away from her. “Thank you.”

Marinette almost didn’t catch what he had said; his words were half-swept away by the wind. Soon after she registered it he was gone from the street, leaving her standing alone with her mouth partway open, like a fish.

He hadn’t even let her respond. Rude of him.

She looked around the street to see the de-akumised man lying where she left him, face down in a small puddle, and her hammer lying nearby. She scrunched her nose up in disgust at the thing.

After very little deliberation she waved a hand next to her ear, sending a small wave of red light over herself and causing the hammer to disappear in a small flurry of dust. Her suit melted away to leave Alya’s ruined skirt and shirt, now with a large red stain seeping through the shoulder.

She noted to herself, something must be done about that injury if I keep getting into fights before it heals. And I’ll need to apologise to Alya for her clothes.

She sighed. The day had not gone as planned but at least it ended with minimal disaster, as far as she was concerned. Only the slight hiccup with the mask.

The memory jarred in Marinette’s mind like a splinter under a fingernail.

Chat’s face had been uncovered by his mask, if only for a few moments before he had woken and covered it up again. Although she had only seen under it for a short time and he was practically indiscernible under his own blood and torn skin, something was nagging at the back of her mind.

And he was so very panicked by her seeing his face.

None the matter. When something bugged Marinette like this often it was the best option to sleep on it, like a name on the tip of her tongue or a forgotten address.

She stretched her shoulders out and then pushed them forward; easing out the stiffness with was beginning to set in after being thrown around the street and into a few brick walls. It would be far worse when she woke up the next morning but for now she kept her neck and arms from stiffening up entirely at least until she was home.

As she reached down to press the wrinkles and dirt out of Alya’s skirt she stopped herself and turned the palms of her hands upwards.

Her palms and fingers were stained red as if she had dipped them into a cask of bright crimson paint. Most of the blood was not hers. She quickly closed her fingers over the mark and tries not to think about it. She would wash herself until she was red herself once she was home and away from the cold streets of London.

Why be fazed by it when he was the one who had to go through all that.

Marinette began to make her way out of the dark street on her own, tugging restlessly on the chunk of her hair slightly shorter than the rest.

*

Alya pushed her hair away from her face with a huff. She asked herself once more why she had bothered dragging herself over the town to visit Marinette in the first place. Why? Her mother had practically banned her from leaving the house after the events at the marketplace, if news of Alya disobeying simple instructions reached her mother she’d be doomed to an eternity of scolding and even harsher restrictions than before.

“Marinette, pull yourself together.” She said trying not to sound as fed up as she felt.

Marinette glanced up at Alya from her propped-up sketchbook, holding her pencil hovering over the paper in a half clenched hand. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re really worried about him just go visit him.”

“Excuse me?” Marinette said, raising an eyebrow. “How do you think I could even begin to think about that? He’s an Agreste, he’s practically royalty. I doubt I’d even make it to their front door.” She said gesturing down at herself and her grubby brown frock and flour dusted apron.

In truth she had been to his neighbourhood before on a delivery, it was as lavish and flashy as she had expected, leaving nothing to imagination when showing off the wealth of its inhabitants.

She simply didn’t feel like chasing Adrien down.

“Sweetie,” Alya leant down over Marinette, meeting her eyes with an intense stare. “You’re tearing yourself apart over him. I highly doubt that’ll stop you, just send him a letter or just use … I don’t know… uh, magic.” She muttered while waving her hands in a flurry of exasperation. Seeing Marinette so hung up over this was driving Alya up the wall and into the ceiling, something had to be done if not ended.

Adrien hadn’t been to the bakery for the last few days to pick up his usual bun or roll; it was indeed digging a pit in Marinette’s stomach. What if he had fallen ill? He’s probably all alone at his home. He had spoken about how he was often left in his house by his self because of his family’s business. Come to think of it, he could have been injured in the chaos of last week’s marketplace attack.

The thought pushed her heart up into her throat causing her to catch her breath and grip her pencil just a little tighter. He wouldn’t be hurt, that just wouldn’t happen.

Alya noticed her discomfort and pointed an accusing finger in Marinette’s direction. “See! You are worried about him.”

Marinette sighed and put down her pencil. She leant back in her chair to squint up at the almost cloudless sky.

Up on her roof she could have a little bit of peace and quiet from the clamour and pressure of the bakery below, at least on most days. Alya hovering over her shoulder and interrogating her throughout her break was never the most relaxing way to spend an afternoon.

“He’s probably just getting his breakfast somewhere else now.”

Alya crossed her arms. “Look, I’m sure there a good reason for this. He loves this bakery, he loves his bread and he loves you.” Marinette flinched. “He wouldn’t just _stop coming_ to this place. He’ll have a suitable excuse for his absence once you two meet again, okay?” Alya slapped Marinette on her shoulder.

Marinette swallowed a yelp as her shoulder panged slightly at the contact. Still not healed yet then.

“What could I possibly do, Alya?”

Alya plopped herself down onto a small bench facing Marinette, with a rickety table between them. She slowly exhaled, holding Marinette’s gaze as she spoke. “If you really want to hunt him down you’ll have to get yourself out there and find him. Otherwise, well you’ll just get back to work and wait for him sweetheart.”

Marinette watched the cluster of small flowers of a potted geranium as they swayed under a passing breeze. The air was cooler outside the house too, allowing some clearer thought. It was a quiet place she was planning to spend some time in simply sketching some designs she had been thinking of recently. Often she found when she had a large worry on her mind she would become more compelled to dive into her sketchbook, like a form of relief.

This was her third time up on the roof in the space of two days.

Marinette squared her shoulders and flipped her book closed. She steeled herself. “I want to see him.” She said. There was no point in avoiding the truth.

Alya threw her hands up and exclaimed, “Fantastic! Now all we have to do is break into his mansion, knock one of his many butlers unconscious as we make our way through the endless halls of his house and kidnap him from his room, from his holding place, out of the hands of his captors.” She finished with a grin.

Marinette snorted and kicked Alya’s leg under the table. “You and your wild stories. There’s no way he’s been kidnapped, he’s probably just ill.”

Alya ignored her and continued her speech with accompanying exaggerated hand gestures. “Marinette the hero! Marinette the valiant rescuer!”

“Oh, enough!” Marinette grinned and shoved a bun into Alya’s face to silence her. Alya grabbed it between her teeth and let out a muffled laugh.

Marinette paused and looked down at the plate her mother had laid next to her sketchbook. When she had first sat down the plate was laden with small brown buns the bakery hadn’t sold the previous day but had been slowly depleted by her and Alya’s snacking. Now only a few crumbs were left after the last bun had disappeared into Alya’s mouth.

“Actually, I think I have a plan.”

“Weawwy?” Alya’s words were muffled by the dough still lodged in her throat.

Marinette picked at the constellation of breadcrumbs with her index. “Yes. It’ll get me to his front door at least.”

Alya swallowed her bun and smiled. “Well that’s a start. I'm guessing this plan isn’t illegal?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “As long as you don’t tell my parents where I’ve disappeared off to during working hours.”

“Oh I wouldn’t tell a soul; this is for the sake of true love!”

“So you’ll cover for me in the bakery?”

“Of course.” Alya said. She leant forward over the table towards Marinette and narrowed her eyes. “So what’ll you need?”

“Bread.”

Alya blinked. “Oh. All right then.”

Marinette tucked her sketchbook away into her satchel and stood up from her chair, dusting the flour off her clothes while Alya watched intently. She glanced up at the skyline of the city past her own roof for a moment before picking up her bag and flicking her hair out of her eyes.

London looked peaceful from up on the roof, like those photographs for the newspapers, complete with grainy blur effect from the smog and monotonous dirty colours. But it was peaceful for the moment. Still, like those photographs.

Marinette met Alya’s gaze. “I’ll get this super top secret mission completed before seven so you can tell my parents that, Okay?”

Alya nodded.

Marinette turned to head down through the door, closely followed by a puzzled Alya.

“So… what is the plan?” Alya asked tentatively.

Marinette smiled and tugged the ribbons tied around her wrist out of their knot then pulling her hair back into two pigtails, fluently wrapping the red ribbons into two neat bows over the nape of her neck.

“Adrien has a delivery.”


	5. A Soft Blue Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette visits Adrien's home, while Adrien is still recovering from his injuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, and its not even very long, I wasn't very happy with the previous chapter so I've probably been putting this one off...  
> Anyhow, I tried to make this one as lighthearted as possible, I hope you like it!

The skin over Adrien’s cheeks and around his nose itched and itched until it was almost maddening. He had recently been driven to busying his hands with books and pieces of string to stop them from scratching under his tightly wrapped bandages, but his patience was wearing thin.  
  
He grumbled as he fidgeted with his shirtsleeves laying back on his bed, which had not been made for three days now, and glaring up at the ceiling.

How long does it take for a burn to heal? Advanced healing could only go so far it seemed, Ladybug’s shoulder injury looked bad enough to take a few weeks perhaps, two months at most, but a nasty slice across Adrien’s chest would disappear after a day or two.

This burn was taking too long.

Even a serious cut would be too much trouble if he could cover it with clothes or a strategic excuse for the injury which would satisfy Nathalie. But what on earth could logically cause a huge burn covering half of his face. Nothing believable at least.

Adrien lifted his head and rolled onto his side to face a small folding mirror at his bedside. Under a mess of dirty and uncombed blond hair the crisscross of bandages, made from a torn up old pillowcase, wound over his ears and nose and around his eyes. It was a terrible job but decent considering he had little more than a mirror and his own intuition to assist him in the operation.

He frowned at the unfamiliar reflection, wincing as the healing skin stretched and bent underneath the dressings. Despite some considerable stinging and pain the wounds had not bled since back when that mask had been removed so the bandage was clean from bloodstains, tempting him to remove it, just to see how he looked under it all. If it was all healed up yet. If he really had scarred.  But despite the nagging curiosity he still held back from touching his face. Perhaps out of anxiety, the need to see his face had been outweighed by the simple fear of the sight of what had been left behind that Akuma.

Adrien’s reflection continued to glare steadily back at him. He stuck out his tongue at the mirror and rolled over onto his back again.

It was pathetic. He truly did feel pathetic; he’d locked himself away from Nathalie, Chloe or any hope that his father would even wonder where Adrien had got to. Nathalie may not be at the point of worry just yet, from what he could tell, but he knew from experience that she would eventually force her way into his room after some days. Until then he was happy, or what was close enough to that, remaining in here.

Adrien closed his eyes. The dull ache faded as he was pulled down by sleep born from sheer restlessness and ennui.

Really truly pathetic.

*

Marinette was well aware of her inability to interact with a stranger or even worse, a crush, so had been mentally preparing herself to confront the huge front door of the Agreste household for most of the journey across town. Imagining the situation and playing out several different scenarios in her head did not seem to calm her nerves nor did it quiet the growing feeling that this plan was not the greatest she could have come up with. It was not dangerous at least; Alya’s alternative felt a tad too aggressive for Marinette’s tastes but her own seemed to be becoming less and less appealing to her as she grew closer and closer to Adrien’s home.

_Marinette held up the basket of fresh bread buns and smiled her best please-the-customer-smile. “For Adrien!”_

_The butler snatched the basket from Marinette’s hands and spat back at her, “The young lord has no need for a measly working girl’s produce. How filthy.” He tipped the buns out onto the ground where they bounced and rolled around by Marinette’s feet._

_“How could you even imagine a dirty little girl like you befriending our young lord Adrien? You are hopeless child.”_

Marinette pouted and shifted the basket in her arms. The scenarios were becoming drearier, slowing her pace, so she quickly set her mind on something different.

She turned her eyes to the street around her.

The scenery around her was shifting from the usual worker’s apartments and shopfronts crammed next to each other like books stacked tightly on a shelf to larger buildings with more windows, less vehicles out front and gardens behind high metal fences. Between the passing bars of fences and behind the flickering leaves of thick but neatly pruned hedges she could see glimpses of the vast green lawns and the far off fronts of the buildings. The pale stone of the houses had an almost reflective quality; the sun being behind Marinette at the time was flashing shards of light into her eyes every now and then from both polished marble and the tall rows of windows.

Marinette smiled as she took in the relative tranquillity of the neighbourhood. The smell of roses was rising and winding out from the richly populated flower gardens, filling her with gentle warmth despite the breeze tickling her bare arms and the overcast sky.

She closed her eyes. I would love to live in a place like this, she thought, lots of space and quiet. I’m willing to bet none of the people here have to fight monsters from time to time too.

Finally she reached the address she had memorised weeks ago after one of the longer conversations the two had held on a slow morning at the bakery.

Adrien’s house had been described to her a few times before, usually in comparison to a prison, at best. He made it clear at any possible occasion how little of the world outside the house his father had let him come into contact with for most of his life. Only in recent years had he even let Adrien run his errands to nearby bakers and florists on his own. Marinette never needed much imagination to understand Adrien’s discomfort and hatred for these conditions when faced with his own face as he had been describing them.

However, as Marinette neared the front gate of the home she couldn’t help but let her jaw drop in raw astonishment.

Through wide eyes she took in the almost fairy-tale image of the garden and building before her. Four floors with countless windows stared back at her from under white and blue painted trimmings reminding her of iced piping on a cake. The high peaked roofs all were trimmed and topped with the same embellishments and a series of white pillars stood in a row along the front of the house before a small veranda area littered with exotic looking plants and an army of statues frozen in mid rejoice. The whole image was like a masterfully crafted doll’s house but on a staggeringly large scale.

Architecture had always been a mystery to Marinette as it had never provided as much of an attraction as fashion had. However, she felt an immense swell of inspiration watching the sunlight dance along the beautiful frame and figure of the mansion.

For Adrien to hate living in such a place, what kind of a man is his father?

Treading carefully down the cobblestone path towards the house Marinette took deep breaths; on the one hand it was doing wonders for her pounding heartbeat, on the other she was finding it hard not to be dazed by the assortment of fragrances drifting over from the sweet-smelling roses, jasmine and lilac blossoms surrounding her around the front lawn. The garden itself was a spectacle to Marinette although she refrained from smelling each shrub she passed, that may have taken hours.

She paused in front of one in particular, a large rose bush studded with pink blooms and letting out a gentle perfume. Her hand cupped one bud as a thought burst into her mind. After a few moments she hurried on down the garden path, significantly more anxious and flushed than before, the basket tucked snug under her arm.

The door to the house loomed above her. To the right a small golden plaque read “Agreste” in black lettering. The knocker in the centre of the door was shaped like a hawk with an iron ring lodged in its bronze beak. Marinette reached up to knock. The polite tap she had expected from the knocker rang out as a loud hollow KLACK into the building on the other side of the door, causing her heart to jump up her throat with a gasp.

After a moment a pattering of footsteps rang nearer and nearer until the door was unlocked and opened up to Marinette.

A woman in a prim violet gown peered down at the relatively grubby Marinette who after an awkward moment of stunned silence regained her composure and spouted out, “I am here on behalf of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, 16B Parisien Street, which your son has visited regularly now for over three months. We would like to thank him by gifting this,” Marinette held up the basket of pastries, “as a sign of our appreciation of his service to us.”

The woman lifted her chin and examined Marinette over her nose. “I have no son.” She said with a sniff.

Marinette gulped. Of course, she had had simply assumed that this woman was Adrien’s mother. He had never said anything about his mother to her before, and now thinking about it this woman didn’t bare any resemblance to him at all. She had black hair where Adrien had pale blond and blue eyes rather than green. She must have greatly insulted this woman. Stupid stupid stupid… What if this was the wrong house. What if-

The woman spoke again, “Do you perhaps mean Adrien?”

“Ah. Yes. Yes I do.” Marinette said, relieved.

The woman took Marinette in, glancing from head to toe and then to the basket in her still outstretched hand. “I am Nathalie. I watch young Adrien and the house while Master Agreste is away from us.” Marinette nodded as Nathalie continued. “I am aware of our Adrien’s visits to your bakery but I did not know of gifts like this. Is this common for lower class businesses?”

Before Marinette could answer Nathalie spoke again. “I will take this gift from you now.” She reached out to the basket, but Marinette pulled it back into her own arms quickly. Nathalie raised an eyebrow.

“Is it…is it too much for me to ask that I deliver it to him, Adrien I mean, myself?”

“Adrien is unwell. He has made it clear that he will not leave his room and will not be disturbed until he is well again.” Nathalie said firmly.

Marinette turned a sickly shade of grey as her thoughts ran in dizzying circles. So he is ill. How ill? How long has he been ill? What on earth can I do for him?

“Girl, are you alright?” Nathalie asked.

Once again, Marinette shook herself back into the present and pursed her lips. “When was the last time he left his room?” She added, “If that’s not so much to ask.”

Nathalie knitted her eyebrows. “It must have been three days now.”

Three days. Marinette had never spent more than an afternoon away from another person in between her busy days at the bakery and the cramped conditions of her family’s house. For Adrien to have been alone for so long, it opened up a cold pit in her stomach. She may not have known him for much more than a few months but she could not imagine Adrien as one to lock himself away like this, he had only seemed to come alive when talking to her or another in the bakery. He had come across as someone terribly lonely.

Marinette gripped the basket’s handle and met Nathalie’s stern gaze. “If you would allow me, I would say a few words to him. For his own good.” she said with as much conviction as she could muster.

Nathalie’s eyes locked with hers for a short moment before they softened. “Fine. I will allow it.” She said, stepping aside out of the frame of the doorway. “But do not expect much of a response; he has refused all but food and water for all this time.”

Marinette gave a small curtsey before scurrying past Nathalie into the building. She got exactly six strides in before she ground to a halt, clutching her basket to her chest. She glanced over her shoulder at Nathalie behind her.

Nathalie smiled gently and said, “Second floor, left corridor, third on the left.” Marinette curtseyed again, gasped a quick “Thank you.” and hurried across the marble floor towards the grand staircase.

*

Adrien woke up to the sound of soft knocking on his door.

He hadn’t a clue how long he had slept for, only that the sun had dipped low enough in the sky to crest his windowsill, spilling pale light across the carpeted floor and over his bare feet. His eyes were heavy; he almost reached up to rub them before jerking his hand back down, narrowly avoiding a small catastrophe.

He rubbed his neck, yawned and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. A few seconds passed and Adrien got to his feet on the bed and groggily stretched out his arms, the reason he had even woken up now forgotten.

Then from the corridor came a voice, soft and unsure and threaded with worry, only just audible through the wooden door, “Adrien it’s me, Marinette.”

His eyes widened.

_Oh darn._

Adrien hadn’t expected anything like this.

Not that it was an unpleasant surprise; he had feared a visit from Chloe for days. But this could arguably be a worse situation. How could he begin to explain anything to her?

_Why? Why would she be here?_

Marinette was never meant to be worrying about him, not her, he had not shown her his house or bragged about his family’s position or anything his father would have expected of him. She shouldn’t be here and she shouldn’t be worried for him. Not at all.

She spoke again, more uncertain this time. “Do you remember me? From the bakery?”

Adrien realised he had frozen, silent, still standing upright on his bed with sheets and strips of pillowcase tangled around his feet. He jumped down to the floor and tried to iron out the shock from his voice.

“Marinette? Why-what are you doing here? How did you even get in the house?” He said, fidgeting and tugging on his sleeve.

“Nathalie let me inside.”

Oh of course, Adrien sighed, Nathalie may be presenting herself as one cold and heartless woman to him but she was still unaware of his ability to see that small glimmer of warmth under the formality. If his father was cold through and through then Nathalie was simply the half-baked replica.

“I came to give you some bread-” A small shuffle could be heard past the door. “-I thought it may help you feel a little better.”

Adrien laughed, hopefully loud enough for Marinette to hear. “Bread?”

 “I-I thought that...” He could practically hear her blushing through the wood. “…my mother says that fresh baked bread is the next best thing for a cold, after the pharmacist’s syrup.”

“Does she really?”

A pause.

Marinette’s voice mumbled through the door. “No.”

Adrien smiled and rested his forehead on the wooden frame. “Thank you.”

“For my bread?”

“No, for coming here. Thank you, Marinette.” He said softly, but keeping his mouth close to the crack between door and frame.

Marinette didn’t answer for some seconds so Adrien continued. “I didn’t expect you to come all the way here but I'm...happy. I'm very happy. I would have visited you if I weren’t ill, I promise you, I'm so sorry I couldn’t let you know. You must have thought I’d forgotten about you or something.”

“I wouldn’t think that at all.” That was a lie, Marinette had in fact thought very thoroughly and extensively about the numerous reasons Adrien would be avoiding her, including the possibility that she had become entirely obsolete to him. “I understand you not being able to tell me why you couldn’t visit, but, uhm...” Marinette trailed off.

Adrien understood what she was asking. He sighed. “I can’t open the door for you.”

“Are you _that_ ill? In that case you shouldn’t even be out of your bed Adrien.”

“Please don’t worry about me, I’ll be walking around outside again in a few days just wait until then alright? I’ll come and visit your bakery every day and I’ll let you know when I'm ill next time too.” Adrien said. He felt awful about that last part, there was no way he could predict when he would be injured or the like again, but he couldn’t think of anything better to say to her.

Marinette fell silent again. Adrien’s heart sank.  How rude it must seem to disappear for three days without a word, blatantly lie when she decides to come all the way to see him, and then refuse to even let her in to speak face to face. What could he do to begin to make up to her?

The room and corridor both sat in silence.

Behind him Adrien heard a bird’s call outside the window from somewhere in the garden. A short burst of notes strung into a simple tune which pulled a memory from the back of Adrien’s memory from earlier in the month. He suddenly surged to life and pressed himself against the door.

“Marinette, do you like dancing?”

“P-pardon?”

“In four days’ time my family is holding a ball, a huge one, for my father’s birthday. If you were to come I’d be much happier to attend it since I’ve never been much of a fan of these things myself, I’d normally just hide behind the tables of food or in a back room and avoid speaking my father’s friends and try to eat those little bits of salmon on crackers before-”Adrien was cut off my Marinette.

“Hold on, hold on. You’re inviting me to a ball?”

“Yes, in a big ballroom and everything. I can get you in if I tell Nathalie you’re providing the bread for the food tables or something. I promise I can speak to you without a door between us and make up for these three days.”

“But, but I…” Marinette seemed to be struggling to find words. “How-what would I even wear?” She squeaked, reaching utter confusion.

“Marinette, there’s no need to get worked up over this. You don’t have to if you wouldn’t like to, I'm simply offering an apology. So just tell me if you would rather go back to normal, just me at your bakery on Monday morning, like normal.  That would be fine too.”

Adrien heard a sound like a sigh, or a deep breath. “I would love to go to this dance, but…”

“Do you know how to dance?”

A short pause. “Yes.”

“Then, Marinette, would you like to come dancing with me?” Adrien asked, smiling despite the ridiculous scene it must have been; him, leaning his forehead and forearm against his bedroom door, face wrapped up like a parcel, grinning like a child over one moronically haphazard plan.

And he hadn’t been happier in weeks.

“Yes.” Marinette answered, her voice loud and close enough for Adrien to assume she had also leaned into the frame to speak through the gap.

“Then I can handle everything else. Just meet me outside my house’s front gate at seven on Thursday with warm clothes and a basket of bread, okay?”

Marinette paused, sorting through his words in her head and then answered, “Alright then.”

“I’ll meet you then, Marinette.” Adrien said.

“Until then.” She said.

Her last words hovered in Adrien’s ears as her footsteps shuffled around beyond the door then fading away down the corridor towards the staircase. He turned and slumped down against the door, still smiling.

_I suppose that’ll do for now. I will make it up to her, and I won’t cause her anymore worry over me._

Adrien leaned forward, sitting with his back pressed to the door and legs spread in front of him. He tugged his shirt sleeves over his knuckles and glanced over to his bedside mirror once again. His reflection grinned back.

_Four days. That’s enough time to get these bandages off, apologise to Nathalie and sort out everything else before the dance._

He stood up and, suddenly remembering why Marinette had even gotten herself into the building in the first place, turned to open his door. His hand hovered over the doorknob, the lock notch in the position he had left it in three days earlier.

After shaking himself and one deep breath he flicked the notch up and pulled the door open.

_Four days. I’ll spend a whole day with her, talking to her like a normal person, a friend even._

Sitting below him on the floor of the corridor like a visitor in itself was the promised basket of buns and fresh bread rolls swathed in a soft blue cloth. He squatted before it, reaching out to pick up the nearest bun to feel the warmth he had always loved, and paused.

He flicked the corner of the cloth away from where his eyes had been drawn to and let out a quiet laugh. Nestled in between the bagels, croissants and brioches, a small rose flower sat, its pale pink head turned up to face Adrien.

His eyes lit up from the glow spreading from his smile. His face had stopped aching.

_Four days. I can wait that long._


	6. A Glimmering Lilac Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette is invited along to a dance with Adrien. Fancy food, expensive clothing, hundreds of eyes watching. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to school being at my neck non-stop right now I don't have any better excuse for finishing this one so late.  
> I wouldn't expect another chapter until Christmas but please know I am doing my best to get the chapters out as soon as I can and I love writing this fic. School can pry it out of my cold dead hands.  
> Hope you like this one.

The lavender plants’ perfume was stifling, like a blanket of fragrance wrapping around Marinette’s head making her evermore muzzy and lightheaded. If her swirling anxiety and the sleepiness still clinging to her wasn’t enough, the myriad of flowers around her was creating an intoxicating atmosphere. She rubbed her hands together, trying to calm herself just a little. Agreeing to attend a dance with him was easy enough with a door between the two of them but, well, actually doing such a thing, spending more than a few minutes with him alone, while retaining her complete composure, had never seemed something within the realms of Marinette’s ability.

Her and Adrien, together. Her and Adrien, dancing. Fancy clothes and pretty lights. Expensive things on little biscuits being handed out of silver plates. Waltz music.

Marinette’s face burned. She cradled her head in her arms and screwed her eyes shut, pushing the tangle of daydreams out of her thoughts before she could crumble entirely.

_I’ll surely melt before him. What was I thinking agreeing to this? Fool, fool, fool, fo-_

“Oh good! You came!” Came a voice from behind her. “You aren’t too cold out here are you?” Adrien skipped up to Marinette and smiled broadly. “I hope you haven’t been waiting for me for too long, I got held back a little. Sorry.”

He was in thin clothes, a simple shirt and dark blue waistcoat and a brown cap over his mess of blond waves of hair. He seemed out of breath, slowing to a halt before Marinette with his chest rising and falling in the way it would for someone who is trying very hard not to seem out of breath. Tucked tightly under one arm he held a flat black box with some intricate floral logo printed on one side.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

Marinette quickly gathered herself together and shook her head, picking up her small basket of bread rolls off the ground where she had rested it. “Oh, no I'm not. And I haven’t been waiting. I only got here a few minutes ago.” That was a lie; she had taken the initiative to arrive half an hour in advance, just in case. She was not quite sure what that case could have been but was convinced that she must be prepared for it.

“Fantastic.” Adrien turned to the gate behind them leading into the front garden of the Agreste estate and rummaged in his pocket. He brought out a glimmering set of keys one of which he set into the lock of the gate with a quiet clink.

“Um, Adrien?” Marinette asked.

“Yes?” He said, pushing the gate open just wide enough for the two of them to slide past.

“Could you get in trouble for this?”

“Oh more than I’ve ever been in for years.”

“What?” Marinette choked, so taken aback she almost stepped backwards into a patch of tulips. “Why would you even think to do this then?”

Adrien cocked his head back at Marinette and smiled. “Because I want to do this for you, Marinette. I’m doing this for the girl I love the most. I’m doing this for my friend and I don’t care what would happen if my plan doesn’t follow though because; well, because it’ll be fun.” Adrien said, raising an arm into the air as he walked in front of Marinette, staring up at the night sky. “It’ll be so much fun, Marinette. And you’ll be right there with me.”

He turned back to her and smiled brightly.

Marinette held her breath. She could feel the blush beginning to creep up her neck, edging towards her face. “…Ah. Is that so?”

_Why must he be like this? I won’t survive the night in this case._

“Oh Marinette you’ll love it, the dresses, the food, the music…” He turned back to the mansion before him and shifted the box under his arm, keeping it snug against his chest. “I can’t wait to show it all to you.”

“Mm hmm.” The blush was reaching her jaw now, a wave of panicked emotion threatening to swallow her face entirely. She had to choose her words carefully now, else she may fall into the blabbering mess she was often reduced to in front of Adrien. Marinette figured sticking with “hmm”s and “ah”s for the moment would suffice and prevent casualty.

Adrien reached his front door and swept another key from his collection, unlocked the door and gestured Marinette inside, with one finger over his lips. The two slipped in and crept across the wide marble floor of the front hall, up the grand staircase and down the left corridor in silence. Marinette remembered the location of Adrien’s door, second floor left corridor third on the left, but they soon passed it.

Adrien finally stopped before the last room at the end of the corridor, the room usually designated to the lord or lady of the house.

They stood before the door for a few moments still in silence before Adrien with no warning reached his arm out to Marinette, who flinched.

He laughed. “I’m just taking this from you.” He pointed at her basket of bread.

“I won’t need it?” She felt unsure about letting go of what Adrien had previously explained as her disguise. It felt a little like her last line of defence against her panic-stricken dancing daydreams.

“No, I’ve got everything sorted.” He said, smiling. Marinette smiled back anxiously and handed over the basket. He took it placed it gently on a squat wooden table along the wall of the corridor.

“What is this?” Marinette asked, nodding towards the door.

Adrien glanced at the door then down at the doorknob. “This was my mother’s room.”

“Why are we here? Why would you lead me here first?”

Adrien turned his head to Marinette with a jolt, his ears burning red. “W-well, you wouldn’t want to change clothes in my room now would you?” He looked almost flustered.

Marinette started and grabbed the doorknob. “No. Of course not.” She gasped, opening the door. She had almost closed it behind her before Adrien jabbed his hand between the door and the frame.

“Hang on, take this first.” He said, sliding the slim box through into Marinette hands.

“Oh, er, right.” Marinette took the box and shut the door fully. She closed her eyes. The night was already a train wreck; she had gone and acted like her usual awkward, bumbling, foolish self and in front of Adrien of all people.

He must be thinking I’m such a strange girl right now. I’ve doomed myself and it has barely been ten minutes.

*

Adrien pressed his hands to his cheeks. His face was burning like an ember, his vision swimming before his eyes and his breaths short and ragged. But he was not sick or returning to the state an akuma had locked him in, he realised with a shock.

Under his hands he hid a nervous smile and eyes glimmering with excitement.

What on earth.

*

Marinette opened her eyes again, stepped away from the door into the room ahead and caught her breath.

The room was laid out something like a museum, photos and paintings on every wall and surface. The same face each time. It must have been his mother. She was beautiful, a flow of pale hair and bright green eyes just like her son. Marinette wondered what part if any he had inherited from his father.

The walls were painted a soft shade of lavender and reflected the moonlight spilling in through the window between thin filmy wisps of curtains, filling the room with gentle blue light. In the centre of the room was a large poster-bed piled high with pillows and patterned cushions at one end, a folded white nightgown at the other. In one corner of the room sat a tall bookshelf stacked with books on mythology and ancient history, in another was a fantastically coloured peacock’s feather-shaped hair pin set into a display on the wall. The bedside tables each had lamps with similar peacock designs. An open book sat on one.

It seemed as if each item had been put in its place a mere few hours earlier as if in anticipation of the accommodator of the room to arrive, however; a thick layer of dust sat over everything, including the doorknob her hand had slipped from moments before.

It was breath-taking in its tranquillity, but at once, immensely sad.

She laid the box Adrien had handed her on the bed over the thick duvet and quilt. The lid had been strapped to the base with a wide black ribbon. She spent a few minutes figuring out the knot at the centre, and then pulling the box free from the tangle. She tugged the lid off with a huff, then immediately froze.

Under the tissue paper inside her eyes fell on a familiarly shaped fold of fabric. She nudged the tissue away with one finger then whipped it away entirely, pulling the dress out of its box in one fluid movement.

“Damn. Damn. Dammit it all.” Marinette said under her breath, grinning madly.

The dress was gorgeous. Like nothing she could have hoped to wear in her lifetime ahead of her. Like something from a dream. A dream of a dream.

Her hands danced over the folds and seams as she held it to her front under her chin. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beau-

She paused.

Had Adrien bought this? It must cost more than everything the bakery sells in one year.

_Fool. Of course he bought it. He was holding this box when he met up with me; he must have bought it in town earlier which was why he was held back._

She paused again, this time with wide eyes.

_Adrien bought a dress for me._

She gripped the dress as her knuckles whitened.

This must be a dream.

Glad to make a good opportunity of a pleasant dream, Marinette hurriedly threw off her drab dirty workers clothes and stepped into the depths of the dress, careful not to get tangled in the intricate workings of the design. Once the sleeves were in place and the skirt skimmed the floor she turned to the upright mirror of the bedroom and stared out at her reflection.

She sighed.

The glimmering lilac material had an almost metallic quality to it, giving the impression that the whole dress and Marinette in it had been carved from some sort of precious rock, the folds of the fabric like seams and veins in the stone. Its collar was trimmed with lace and encrusted in shimmering crystals, the sleeves the same but with a darker shade.

Not once in her life had Marinette even guessed that her daydreams of dresses would leap out of her mind like this moment. The closest she had even been to a dress like this was with the glass pane of a shop window between them. A dream. It must be.

She pinched herself.

Then harder.

“Ach!”

She wasn’t dreaming.

In a daze, Marinette drifted back over to the box which still lay open. Under the final layer of tissue sat the topping of the metaphorical cake. The cherry on the bun. The zenith of all this madness.

A hairpin.

She plucked it from the box and peered at it between her fingers. “Damn it all to hell.”

She returned to the mirror and jabbed it into her hair which had been put up into a simple bun earlier in the day, with mock frustration. Nestled in the wisps of black hair she must admit, it matched the dress perfectly. A small pin shaped like a branch of lilac blossoms, spreading through her hair and down her temple, framing her face perfectly. As she turned her head to and fro in front of her reflection the miniature petals of the pin jingled and chimed like tiny bells in her hair.

_How much thought had he put into this?_

Marinette packed the box back together with her old clothes inside and began back to the bedroom door. She paused in front of the mirror once more to check her face wasn’t as flushed as she felt and to steal one more glance at her dress, and then stepped out into the corridor. She couldn’t find Adrien in the space outside the room so made her way to his own room, which had a faint glow coming from under its door.

Keeping her skirts away from the floor, Marinette eased the door open, finding Adrien hunched over a bedside mirror and tugging at a necktie. He turned to see her enter, his face brightening to a blinding glow.

“It fits you!” He said, his eyes gleaming.

Marinette stepped forward timidly. “Yeah…” She looked down at the dress and continued, “But I didn’t think you would go this far.”

Adrien shrugged. “Why not? You wouldn’t fit in otherwise and,” He gestured at her from her feet to her head, “It suits you well.”

Marinette’s eyes glazed over as she began laughing to herself quietly, “You think so?” she mumbled dazed.

Adrien finally tugged his tie into position and walked over to be directly in front of her, and held out an arm. “Milady.”

Marinette stared down at his bent arm hovering by her abdomen.

“You put your hand on it.”

“Pardon?”

“Like this,” he reached out and took her hand then gently placed in to rest on his outstretched forearm. “This means in escorting you to the dance. I’ve seen so many gentlemen do the same for their wives.”

“You’re escorting me?” Marinette quirked an eyebrow at the phrasing.

“No of course not. Not in that sense. The ball is only a few minutes’ walk from the house and I'm more than sure you could have made it yourself but…” He trailed off. His eyes drifted to the carpet below their feet then up to the drifts of Marinette’s skirts. “It’s a lot of fun to act this sort of thing out, isn’t it?”

Marinette smiled at him, he answered with an equally gentle smile. “I understand.” She said, letting her arm fall into a more relaxed position on his.

 The two then began their way through the cold and empty house and out into the even colder and darker night air, quietly closing doors behind them and making sure to stuff Marinette’s old clothes and basket in a suitably out-of-the-way hiding spot. She had asked whether Adrien’s father would be expecting him to bring a partner to the dance, nor if Nathalie would attend, for Marinette was certain the woman would recognise her instantly. Adrien had merely waved the question away, answering with “They won’t be a problem, trust me. I’ll try to deal with my father as soon as I can and Nathalie isn’t even attending, she’s away visiting relatives or something.” then going on to talk again about how excited he was bring her to see the ball, grinning ear-to-ear.

_With her._

_As a partner._

Marinette snapped back into the present as Adrien led her out from the front gate and along the deserted streets.

A chilled breeze caught a thread of her hair and twirled it around and under her nose before she tucked it back behind her ear. Adrien watched, his arm still holding hers.

“It’s a bit like déjà vu.”

Marinette glanced up, annoyed. “I don’t know any French.”

He laughed. “It means a moment you know you’ve experienced before, but you can’t put your finger on _when_. Being with you, in these ridiculous clothes, the cold air and nigh sky,” He met her gaze. “I could have sworn…” his words faded away.

Under his sweep of blond hair Marinette watched Adrien’s eyes darken and blur out of focus for a moment before he continued. “No matter. It’s a funny thing, you know, whenever I'm with you I get that feeling.”

Marinette nodded. “I think I understand what you mean.” Whatever Adrien had been referring to, she was now recognising. The itch on the tip of her tongue whenever he turned to leave the bakery, the swelling uncertainty in her chest for those three empty days, a moment when she almost _almost_ turned back to walk through Adrien’s bedroom door despite his words.

Whatever was plaguing her was with him too. The though was a small comfort.

She pushed the tangle of thoughts away for the time being, for the night ahead of her was enough of a growing anxiety.

*

“ _Plat de poisson chic et des petites choses vert_?”

Marinette shook her head as politely as she could. She had had quite enough of fancy French phrases being thrown around left and right. Perhaps she was the only lower class girl in the building and her linguistic ignorance was dragging her down in this sophisticated environment like a brick tied to her ankle.

Or perhaps not _quite_ that drastic. But it was driving her up the silver inlaid walls.

She craned her neck to find Adrien, who had been dragged off a few moments earlier by a plump woman in red, rather resembling an over-ripe tomato. He was nowhere to be seen, only a sea of glittering hats and towering hairpieces.

_Where has he got to? I’ll never find him in this swarm._

Marinette huffed and pulled her skirts up her shins a little bit, not enough to seem unladylike but enough to allow some manoeuvrability. She pushed her way through past elbows and corsets until she found herself in a small clearing, finally getting some cooler air into her lungs and seeing further than half her arm’s length in front of her.

Once again she span around, like a model ballerina in a music box with her flowing dress and hair in an almost-perfect bun.

Finally her eyes landed on a girl around her own age and, thinking in a logical and coolheaded way, tottered over to address her.

“Um, excuse me?” She asked.

The blonde, and seemingly affronted, girl turned to face Marinette, “Have you seen a blond boy in a dark green suit about _so tall_ around here? Answers to Adrien?”

The girl raised a delicately polished set of nails to her chin and ran her eyes up and down Marinette. “What would _you_ want from him?” She asked.

Marinette froze, an inexplicable confusion washing over her in the presence of this girl. Although she can’t have been any older than Marinette she was wearing an air of stiff superiority, an atmosphere which was beginning to loom over Marinette like a storm cloud.

“I-I came here with him. I’ve lost him in the crowd.” Marinette spoke carefully and took a step back from the girl whose face had darkened suddenly at what she had said. “Do you know him by any chance?” She asked.

The girl leaned forwards into Marinette’s face, contorting her heavily powdered face into a sneer. “Do _I_ know _him_?” She prodded Marinette’s shoulder. “I think the real question would be; are _you_ acquainted with _him_? I couldn’t imagine Adrien bringing a no-body like you to this dance; I was always his first choice and I would be on his shoulder right now if he weren’t bedridden!” Her face screwed up until it had turned a bright red.

“A no-body like me?” She regretted the words as soon as they had left her mouth.

“What do you know of him? He has never made truer friend than me. I’m his only friend.”

Marinette felt her lips rise into a small smile. “And yet you never once visited him while he was sick, bedridden in fact.”

The girl grew exponentially redder. “I. Was. Busy.” She hissed.

Marinette forced her smile away and broke eye contact to turn her attention to her nails which had suddenly become fascinating to her. This was not worth an argument.

The girl took a step back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, regaining some composure.

“Besides, there’s no way he would be walking around, attending balls, especially with strange girls off the street.” She said peering smugly down at Marinette with crossed arms.

There have been few moments in Marinette’s life in which fate or destiny seemed to have reached down its hand, to guide or affect the events which would usually be out of Marinette’s favour. A moment which she would be eager to describe as “a miraculous coincidence” or simply “unbelievable fortune”.  One of particular memorability had not yet occurred until now and this was the first, although perhaps not the most impressive, to be experienced in her life.

Not more than two seconds after Chloe Bourgeois had closed her mouth, the dense crowd around the two girls parted like the clouds over an overcast summer day, revealing the small stage area at the opposite end of the hall. On the platform stood a selection of people, mostly of high standing from what Marinette could gather, including the small orchestra and guests of honour. In the centre of the group and in the direct line of sight of the girls was a tall stern looking man in a grey suit in intense conversation with a young blond boy.

Chloe dropped her arms to her side and squinted over to the stage.

Marinette simply held her face in the mask of mild surprise at this entirely unexpected turn of events.

Chloe’s mouth opened and closed a few times then snapped shut as her face hardened. “Adrien. He’s here.”

“Yes. He is. Unbelievable.” Marinette’s face remained steady and smiling at Chloe.

“Adrien. Chloe began to raise her voice. “ _Adrien_.” She said, and hitched up her skirts, pushing her way through the crowd in the direction of the stage. “ _Adrien_!”

Marinette had never experienced a ball until now so had no idea of the etiquette or manners common to them, however she did not believe that shrieking somebody’s name across a ballroom was expected or widely appreciated.

Soon the guests around Chloe had cleared way and were muttering in distaste, and the guests on the platform ahead heard Chloe’s voice and turned to squint to see what was causing the racket. As soon as Adrien’s eyes fell on the approaching form of Chloe he flung himself with a sudden burst of energy from the stage and into the bustle of the crowd, leaving his father to peer curiously down at the loud and flailing Chloe at his feet.

Marinette simply backed out away from the noise and attention of the guests. Once her back was resting firmly against the wall of the ballroom she relaxed. Meeting that girl had taken a lot more out of her than she had expected, the sheer intensity of the short conversation felt much more like combat than anything else.

Around her the bobbing ball-gowns and suits and platters ebbed and flowed past her, the chatter winding around her like music from one very large, glittery, wealthy orchestra.

She closed her eyes. She still needed to find Adrien, and was as far from retrieving him out of the rabble as she had been ten minutes earlier.

She opened her eyes again and was hiking her skirts up to continue the search just as hand fell on her shoulder.

Marinette flinched at the sudden contact but relaxed once she recognised the voice coming from behind her.

“I see you’ve met Chloe.”

Marinette lifted Adrien’s hand off of her shoulder slowly. “Is she really a friend of yours?” She asked.

“Well, she certainly spends a lot of time around me, that for sure.” Adrien said, rubbing his neck. He looked a bit more dishevelled than he had when they first arrived. “I think you understand why I hadn’t mentioned her to you.”

Adrien looked Marinette up and down, a crinkle of concern in his brow. “She didn’t say anything too cruel, did she? Chloe isn’t one for first impressions.”

“It’s fine. I’ve met ruder.” Marinette said. Her days in the bakery had never been full to the brim with polite, patient and understanding customers but over the years she had developed a keen ability to detect and deflect the less friendly.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you there, my father wanted to speak to me.” Adrien said.

“Is there something wrong? If he has a problem with me bring here with you I can leave.”

“No, no, he doesn’t even know you came here with me. If I had even let it slip that I had met you and brought you, well…” Adrien trailed off but began up again briskly, “I promise neither he or anyone else will cause any problems for us, I’ll make sure. This is our night.” He beamed.

Marinette found herself smiling back and felt his hand slip into hers by her side.

“What?” Adrien said, seeing the look on Marinette’s face as she realised what he had planned. “Something wrong?”

“I told you. I can’t dance.”

“Not even a little?” His brow crinkled.

“Not once in my life.”

Adrien rubbed his chin and broke out into yet another smile, “Then there’s a first time for everything.” He started forward into the crowd, dragging Marinette behind him at arm’s length.

“Wai-” Marinette gasped as she followed Adrien’s back into the chattering throng. She tried to get his attention once again but the volume of conversation around them drowned out her words before they reached his ears. There was very little she could do to stop him; he meant well, she was sure, but out of all the things which could go wrong in this place humiliating Adrien was not something she would readily allow to pass. She could see it clearly; stepping on his toes, tripping on her skirts, tripping on someone else’s skirts…it couldn’t possibly end well.

Soon they had reached the densest area of the hall where the guests had gathered in a concentrated ring around the open clearing for those dancing. The two were now squeezing past and being knocked around by shoulders in order to pass through. Adrien’s hand tightened around Marinette’s.

Suddenly they popped out into the open dancing space, a slight shock to Marinette who had moments before found both movement and breathing difficult.

The open space was large, the size of a small park, and dotted with twirling women in dresses and men in sharp black, blue and white suits. Around the edges the guests watched and occasionally joined the swaying tide of dancing.

Before Marinette could crumble under the gazes now coming at her from all angles, Adrien looped an arm behind her back and pulled her further out onto the floor, and whispered by her ear “Just follow me, you’ll be great.”

She gulped and clumsily placed her hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand, wracking her mind of all the diagrams of waltzes she had seen in books and the pretend dances she and Alya had entertained as children and at parties.

“Ahem.”

Marinette glanced up at Adrien, who had his lips pressed tight together, forcing down a laugh.

“Wrong hands.” He let out a choked giggle as Marinette fumbled to swap the places of her hands, both of their arms crossing over each other in the confusion as they began to be pulled into the rhythm of the waltz. Wrists and elbows bumping and knees colliding through her skirts for more than a few seconds. Marinette cursed under her breath as her ears burned. Trying his best not to laugh outright, Adrien quickly pulled her left hand onto his shoulder and held her other securely in his own.

“Sorry.” Marinette said under her breath, letting her hair fall over her cheeks to hide her blush.

Adrien grinned. “It’s fine, you’re doing great.”

It did not take very long for Marinette to fall into the steps of the dance, her feet remembering their correct places sooner than she had expected. Even the stares of strangers boring into the back of her head faded out quickly once they had picked up speed.

The music, whatever song or composer it was, began to fill Marinette’s mind, the notes falling in rhythm with her own heartbeat and the tune winding through her until every breath was simply a part of the melody. She had never particularly cared for music, even less for large gatherings of the wealthy and well-off like this, these things were always reserved for those other than herself, the rich and happy, not the poor dirty bakery girl.

However, in this moment she had never felt more beautiful.

“There, what did I tell you, Cinderella?” Adrien said, his eyes glistening with pride. He was not facing her but looking out ahead of the two, to where they would be swinging out towards in a few moments. “Like riding a bike.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a bike.” He turned back to her.

“It’s not at all like riding a bike.” Marinette said, sticking out her chin. “While making a mistake on a bicycle would easily result in a minor injury, messing up _here_ would be humiliating. Humiliating for _you_. There’s a reason your father doesn’t want you around people like me”

“Not at all.” Adrien pulled Marinette in just a little closer and raised a brow. “I couldn’t imagine having a reason for not wanting to be around you. Not even a slip-up at a ball could do that.” He grinned another Cheshire-cat grin and leaned in, letting a wave of hair fall away from his temples and revealing a slither of a scar tracing around his right eye and along his hairline.

_Bugger._

Marinette sighed and pulled her left hand away from his shoulder, his face changed momentarily to surprise, reaching up to place her hand on his cheek, her thumb resting over the silver scar.

Her eyes softened. “Adrien I need to ask you a question.”

Adrien wore a look mixed with confusion and something resembling fear. “What? What’s wrong?”

Marinette held her breath.

They were still slowly circling around in the waltz, their feet now moving entirely mechanically, not a step out of line and glittering from head to foot in clothing expensive enough to rebuild an entire block of flats, each. From the side of the dance the two of them must have looked somewhat romantic; her hand by his face, him holding her a fraction closer waiting for her to speak. What Marinette was feeling was the furthest from romance she had ever imagined. What Marinette was considering couldn’t have been further from romantic. Perhaps the most undesirable of situations. The worst case scenario.

Pity.

That may have been the closest emotion describable.

Nothing too complex, simply the sudden and heavy understanding of what he had put himself through. All of it alone and wearing that _that_ smile of his. That smile he hadn’t dropped for one sickening moment. His stupid _stupid_ smile.

Adrien met her hand on his cheek with his right hand, frowning. “Marinette, please tell me what it is.”

 _Stupid_ , _stupid_ , _bloody stupid_.

She had considered it, of course she had. The worst case scenario. Although, she had considered it the same way you would consider the chance of suddenly gaining the ability to make small objects fly around your room. This _this damned possibility_ was now staring her in the face. A beautiful wide-eyed _stupid stupid_ face staring right back at her.

More than stupid, this meant that it had been right in front of her that whole time. Under her nose. On the tip of her tongue. In her arms and lying on her lap, more dead than alive. Chatting about breakfast rolls under a dusting of golden morning light.

And yet she hadn’t been able to do a damn thing for him.

_I didn’t do anything to help him._

Adrien’s face suddenly forced its way through to the front and centre of Marinette’s mind, her thoughts scattering.

“Marinette!”

The fog cleared and she was an inch away from his eyes. He looked panicked.

“Marinette you need to tell me what’s wrong.” He said, not raising his voice but clearly only just holding himself back from pure terror.

Marinette realised she had been crying. A small but fast moving flurry of tears had already made their way to her chin and were dripping onto her beautifully clean and smooth dress, leaving little dark spots on the pristine fabric.

_Shame._

“Marinette _please_.”

She looked back at him, dropping her hand away from his face and letting it fall to her side.

“Adrien?” Her voice was hoarse.

“What?” He responded, perhaps more eagerly than intended. “What is it?”

Marinette hadn’t brought any combination of words together in order to ask what she had needed to in advance, she expected there was little to do to make this little scene any less of a disaster for everyone involved.

She opened her mouth to begin when a shrill, and notably male, scream resounded from across the hall.

The first thought to cross Marinette’s mind was, _I haven’t even begun yet_.

The second was, _is it even possible for me to have one day of peace and tranquillity. A day where everything goes my way and I don’t get into a fight._

The third was, unsurprisingly, _bugger it all to hell._


	7. A Dandelion Yellow Skirmish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gate crasher arrives at the party. Some windows are broken. Marinette explores the gardens. Adrien makes a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie I finally finished this chapter! School's really had its claws in me for the last few months but to make up for it this chapter's a bit longer than the rest so far.  
> I hope you like it!  
> (also I though I might mention that there was a bit of a time leap between chapters 2 and 3, i.e. our two lovebirds had been up to more fights etc before the events of ch3. If there are any more leaps between chapters in the future I'll make sure to make it clear)

**About three minutes ago.**

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Calm and collected, just like father told her to be.

Holding her arms stiff at her sides and maintaining a bright red complexion, Chloe certainly did not appear to be keeping calm and collected.

This was _her_ night. She had planned her dress weeks in advance, along with every item of jewellery currently pinned and draped over herself, and barely got an hour of sleep the previous night thinking about her oncoming chances with Adrien. The sheer potential in this night. After some few weeks of not seeing him at all she was more than ready to keep him company, to be able to speak to him without an adult peering over their shoulders, or maybe even to dance.

All through their childhood she'd known how little time he had been allowed with children his age, let alone with her, so had gotten used to jumping at the chance to let him have some fun and spend time with her. And honestly, she had had enjoyed being around him too.

But _that_ girl, the one in the purple dress, had the audacity, the nerve, to ruin it all. To act as if she were a friend of his.

_Deep. Breaths._

Chloe straightened up and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. No matter, Adrien knew better than to waste time with a girl who's a practical stranger and just run off from his own closest friend like that. He'll come back, for sure.

And he'll ask Chloe to dance.

For sure.

Chloe grabbed something from the nearest tray offering food and popped it into her mouth without looking at what it was, and then set out across the ballroom floor to find Adrien. He can't have made it far and if that girl had managed to wrap her slimy arms around hi-

Before she could finish the thought a piercing noise broke through the crowd and stopped her in her tracks.

She couldn't move. Absolute dread washed over her, not from the sound, which she only later recognised as a scream, but from the realisation that she was in unimaginable danger.

Having learnt from her tutor at home the natural reaction an animal has when confronted with danger, Chloe knew she had turned into no more than a rabbit frozen before a predator. A weak and terrified creature, defenceless and suddenly, very alone.

Holding her breath she slowly turned her head to the right, where huge glass windows stretched up to meet the ceiling of the hall and opened out to the huge gardens behind the building. As the evening had only begun no guests had left to wander the gardens yet, although many were gathered around the base of the windows to chat and wave glasses of expensive drinks at each other, very close to where Chloe was standing. No lights had been lit out in the gardens among the rows of neatly clipped hedges and tall, nearly humanoid, rose bushes which were only illuminated by the almost full moon overhead. Although the effect was eerie there was no current reason for the gardens to be lit up anyway since they were not yet open to guests, only to the groundkeepers. The gardens should be completely empty.

Despite this, Chloe's eye was drawn to a strange, hulking shape at the centre of the garden, barely more than a shadow in the moonlight. It shifted, shimmered in its place, and then split into two.

Chloe strained to see the shapes better, leaning closer to the window as many others were now doing in wake of the noise.

Quickly, almost too fast for her eyes to track, one shape leapt forwards into the light the ballroom was casting in a small halo onto the nearest section of the garden, occupied by circles of brightly coloured and exotic looking flowered bushes. Now that it was less than five steps away from the window the shape was in clear view, and recognisable as the shape of a young woman.

Chloe choked and staggered backwards away from the window.

She knew that girl. Except, there was something indescribably, inescapably _wrong_ about her this time.

The girl locked eyes with Chloe and stepped closer to the window, pressing a hand against the glass. The small crowd which had gathered a moment before had now bustled back from the window with noises of general shock and horror, but none had run away yet.

_Idiots!_

Chloe was ready to scream now.

_Why aren't you running? She wants me dead! She's going to hurt you!_

The sickening smile on the girl's face widened, revealing a row of inhumanly sharp teeth. From a distance perhaps she wouldn't have looked too off, but from where she was Chloe could see the mistakes. Arms a bit too long. Legs slightly too thin. One eye much bigger than the other.

She forced herself to look away before it got any worse. It was as if a child had drawn, no, a child had drawn _in the dark_ , what it thought a person would look like. Chloe tripped over her skirt to get away from the window and pointed herself towards the doors out of the hall on the opposite side of the room.

Pushing through the stunned crowds the deafening sound of the windows shattering behind her and dozens of screams rang out, and knocked her to her knees. She skid, sliding across the polished marble floor on her satin dress skirt in what would have been a comedic manner at any other time, a few feet until she toppled and her shoulder cracked against the floor _hard_. She gasped at the force which ran through her torso, shuddering and struggling to get a breath into her lungs.

Deep. Breaths. Deep. Deep. Dee-

A hand grabbed hers.

Chloe was pulled up into sitting position, the noises of chaos rushing around her in shouts and screams and a flurry of skirts. She blinked and looked up at the hand, then to the arm connected to it, then up to the worried face above her.

"Chloe! Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Chloe felt the burn begin in her eyes, the tickling in her nose and tightness in her stomach. She was already pouring tears down her cheeks when she began speaking.

"Adrien. Adrien I - I - I'm so scared. I don't know w-w-what to do. She wants me dead. I don't kn-know w-why b-b-b-b-"

Adrien pulled Chloe up onto her feet and into his arms, squeezing her until she stopped trying to push words out and fell into silence.

"It's okay."

Chloe let a slow breath out and raised her arms to Adrien's shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jacket with white knuckles. Her breath shook in her chest.

Behind Adrien, the girl in purple appeared with a stony face.

"Adrien, I need to talk to you." The purple girl said, pulling her skirts up around her knees as if she were preparing for a sprint.

Adrien let his arms loosen around Chloe and turned to the girl. "It's not the time, Marinette. You and Chloe should leave as soon as you can."

Marinette grabbed Adrien's sleeve and pulled him closer to her with a force unexpected enough to earn a startled look from him. "No. I'm not leaving. You are."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Go! Now, Adrien!"

Chloe stepped in-between the two before things could get any worse. "You two, stop fighting. In fact, stop talking entirely. Adrien," She turned to address him directly. "Come with me and get out of this place before we're both killed because of this crazy-" she turned to Marinette. "street girl and her hero fantasies."

Marinette looked ready to start an all-out brawl before Adrien held up a hand to stop her.

The three of them were some of the last remaining in the hall, most had rushed out of the main doors already but some were still tottering around in confusion or a drunken stupor. None appeared to have been injured by the windows breaking although some were sporting small cuts on their bare arms. The misshapen girl from earlier was nowhere to be seen.

"Why would you want to stay here?" Adrien asked Marinette.

"It doesn't matter." Marinette said. "You're still recovering from your….sickness. There's no reason for you not to get out as fast as you can."

"Fine!" Adrien threw up his hands. "I'm leaving. But not until I know you're safe too."

"Fine!"

"Alright!"

The two fell into silence, chests rising and falling from the exertion of fighting against an equally stubborn individual.

Adrien was staring directly into Marinette's eyes. On any other day Marinette would have broken her gaze or begun to boil over, but her resolve had already set her face in an expression firmer and with more strength than Adrien had been able to recognise in her before. In fact, he was struggling to hold back his surprise at her new-found resolve. More than the extraordinary nature of it all, she was beginning to remind him of someone he had never thought to compare her with until now.

Marinette huffed. "Why are you smiling?"

"It's nothing." Adrien said, turning his eyes away and towards the nearest set of doors. "Let's get out of here then."

Marinette nodded then frowned. She span on her heel to where Chloe was standing.

Where Chloe wasn't standing.

She and Adrien suddenly tensed.

_I look away for five seconds. Five seconds and I've got both of us into a mess again._

Marinette cursed herself under her breath when her gaze found Chloe. Neither she nor Adrien had noticed her vanishing or even heard a sound as she was stolen away. Surprisingly Chloe hadn't cried out at all, Marinette assumed she had hit her head on the ground or fainted rather quickly after being grabbed.

Chloe was lying in a far corner of the hall unconscious, her arms spread out above her head reaching towards where they were standing. Her hair had come undone and was lying in a wide blond halo around her perfectly painted face and glittering dress. Squinting, Marinette spotted what she had been dreading and grabbed Adrien's arm. "Get out of here, _now_."

Adrien stared back at Marinette. "Wh-" He was broken off as Marinette made a quick decision, sweeping her leg under his feet, sending him swiftly towards the ground with a soft crack as his head hit the marble and he was knocked out.

_Ah. You slipped._

She winced and tugged him by his feet towards the tables lining the side of the hall to lay him down underneath one, the table cloth curtaining him off from the rest of the hall. She muttered a quick "Sorry." and darted back out to the now entirely empty ballroom. Marinette briefly considered the array of cutlery lying over the table tops and grabbed a small but sharp knife, wrapping in the folds of her skirt before turning around.

The ground was littered with masquerade masks, trays and food, everything which had been dropped in the mad rush to get away from the dark shape sulking in the corner of the hall opposite Marinette. She could see Chloe more clearly now; dangling a few feet off the ground in her dandelion yellow gown, her bare legs hanging bruised and cut from glass shards below her torn skirts. She had been dragged across the floor by the ankles by what was now wrapped around her waist in a knotted band of brown-green.

The tendril of vine was unnaturally robust, barbed by thorns thicker than Marinette's arm and longer than knives. It arched above Chloe's head and led back down in a tangled path to the akuma standing below her, numerous other vines snaking out from its arms and shoulders, some lying motionless on the ground around it like sleeping animals, others hanging in the air poised like vipers before striking.

Marinette shivered. Chloe had been shaken by the sight of this akuma, and for what was now an apparent good reason. The creature holding Chloe up before her was misshapen and grotesque but with the horrific grace and elegance in its movements that Marinette had seen in previous enemies. Its skin was a sickly pale shade of green, like sun-bleached dead leaves, under a costume wrapped around its body with the texture and colour of oak bark. Its appearance shouldn't have afforded any comfort or mobility yet it moved forwards with eerie fluidity to address Marinette in a rough, raspy voice dripping in poisonous hostility like sap.

"A little girl. To stop me?" The akuma shuddered with laughter as its voice resounded around the hall from wall to wall and marble floor to silver ceiling. "Silly, silly, you'll get yourself killed little one. Just like this stupid girl."

The akuma hoisted Chloe further in the air, her head lolling around on her shoulders like a doll.

"This _girl_." It spat the word out with venom. "She will die without delay, do not fret. The show will resume shortly. Oh yes. And such a show it will be! Ha! Not a soul will stand in my way, not in mine. No. Not in mine. Ha! Ha ha!"

The maddened babbling of the akuma rang around the hall as Marinette touched a finger to her earlobe. Her dress melted away in a familiar whirl of rose scented air. She tested the weight of her fan in her hand and reached up to find her hair was still locked in a tight bun at the top of her head. She supposed this could be practical. At least she couldn't be grabbed by the hair again.

The akuma sneered at the sudden appearance of Ladybug.

"Ah. You." It said, stepping forwards with a forest of thorns rising at its side.

"Yeah, me." Marinette moved into a stance lower to the ground, anticipating an immediate attack, yet none came.

The akuma continued. "The Ladybug wasn't it? A mere pest to my crop, I should think. It shan't be too difficult for me to get what both I and he want after squashing a little beetle like you."

Marinette frowned. "Who is "he"? Is there a second of you guys today?"

"Oh don't worry your little head about it, I'm sure you'll know of him soon enough. After all, he was oh so _very_ interested in you two heroes." The akuma grinned, showing off the thorn-like rows of teeth. "Now if you'll excuse me."

Marinette caught her breath as the akuma pulled the unconscious Chloe towards itself and raised an arm up to her neck, its fingers grazing her throat.

"Tell me why." Marinette demanded, speaking before allowing herself enough time to think an argument up. There was little more she could do before Chloe got hurt, she far too far away to stop the akuma physically just yet. "Why do you want to hurt her?"

The akuma paused.

_Oh thank god._

"Because she ruined my life."

Marinette easily pictured the ways in which Chloe could have been a great bother to practically anyone she came across, herself included, but didn't see an obnoxious girl as a good enough reason to commit any level of violence. Legality aside, she just wasn't worth the effort in Marinette's opinion.

"This girl stole my shop from me, my home and my family. If it weren't for her I'd still be happy, and my children would still be with me." The akuma said, gazing up at Chloe's body; hovering like fruit under tree branches. "If it weren't for her-"

Marinette moved quickly. The akuma's hand had only just reached Chloe neck again when two of its stick-thin and bony fingers flew off behind it with a metallic _whizz_.

It hissed and span back to the spot where Marinette had stood, and had now disappeared. The steak knife clattered to the ground along with a spatter of brown-green sap and flecks of bark.

The akuma threw a cool gaze around the hall, slowly dropping Chloe's body to the floor and smiling.

"Oh little bug, little bug. Won't you come out and play?" It called, a cruel grin spreading across its face.

Marinette's voice answered from all corners of the hall. "I recommend not teasing me."

"Oh really?"

"So what do you call yourself this time, since you lot seem to be oh so fond of nicknames."

"Speak for yourself." The akuma said, picking at a small bud sprouting from its forearm. "I was told to answer to The Florist. But I find it nowhere near as threatening as I would have liked it. Tacky, I believe."

"I agree."

The akuma staggered as Marinette dropped onto its shoulders from above, where she had perched on a high tapestry. She locked her arms around its neck and jaw, pulling her own body weight backwards until they both toppled to the ground.

_Stay down. Stay down. Please stay down._

Only a moment later a limb of vine shot forwards to scrape Marinette's cheek before she rolled out of the way across the glass-scattered floor. Shards cut into her palms as she got back onto her knees.

"Little bug little bug. Don't be such a pest." The akuma's barbed vines flew forwards again, two missed, Marinette dodged another three; the thorns raking away at her clothes, a last one wrapped itself around her ankle before she could avoid it.

"Won't you let me get on with it? I haven't got all day you know." The akuma said, tugging Marinette's legs out from under her and dragging her backwards along the ground, shards of glass tinkling under her. With a sickening jolt, Marinette saw that the akuma had regained all its fingers once again. Anything she did to cut, slash or remove would be undone soon enough by its magic.

The akuma noticed her staring. "Oh? This?" It asked, flexing its left hand above its head. "I suppose it will make things difficult for you, won't it? And oh so easy for me."

The vine around Marinette's ankle suddenly tightened, driving a blade deep into the flesh of her calf, and hurling her away into the wall of the hall. All air was knocked out of her chest. Marinette coughed, tasting metal.

_Ah. This again._

The akuma laughed as Marinette's body slid down to the ground. The vine remained wrapped firmly around her leg.

"Ha ha ha! Ha! I'll squash this little beetle! Yes!" The akuma descended into a fit of crazed giggles, holding its sides in absolute mania as the vine leapt up again, holding Marinette 20 feet in the air in preparation for a second blow.

"I squash you! I'll squish you! I'll throw up around and crush you under my foot you little pest!"

At the peak, Marinette blearily lifted her head. She was close enough to touch the golden painted ceiling if she were to reach her hand out. From within the images carved into the plaster a little angel peered back at her, holding a blanket of clouds out for a stampede of Pegasus to run under in a flurry of gold light and feathers. Muzzily Marinette tore her eyes away and pulled out a fragment of glass from where it had been lodged in her thigh, one long and sharp enough for the job. She quickly drew it up, then drove it into the vine around her lower half, pushing it _in_ then with a rush of strength pulling it _across_ until it severed the limb.

_Snip Snip._

Marinette fell from the suddenly slack grip of the vines and dropped to the ground again softly, only stumbling slightly when she put weight on her slashed leg.

The akuma screeched and sent its vines flailing around it, some pulling tables from the side of the room and knocking sconces topped with long thin candles over, spilling wax and flames over the floor. One reached high enough to rattle a chandelier. The crystals tinkled in a harmony incompatible with the chaos which had been already strewn over the ground below them, almost enough to have Marinette laughing at it.

Snapping back to reality Marinette shot a glance at the ruined tables. Good. Adrien was still nowhere in sight. Looking back, and forwards to the current situation, it may have been a better decision to simply have tossed Adrien out into the corridor or hidden him in the garden. Too late now. Marinette cursed herself as she closely dodged a vine. Another whistled past her ear as she skirted the akuma to behind its back, however the akuma span around before Marinette could react and sent an arm of vine into her stomach.

Marinette was left breathless again. She felt cold air rushing past her as she was helplessly knocked back through the glassless windows and out into the gardens, barely aware of what was up, what was down, and how far she had travelled.

She landed in something relatively soft. Looking around, it was a flowerless bush with bright red leaves. Thanking her luck she rolled out of it and stepped onto the pebbled path, brushing hair and mud from her eyes. Before taking a second step she ducked down and behind the bush she had landed in.

The akuma strode slowly but deliberately behind a row of white roses and pear trees, less than throwing distance from where Marinette had crouched.

She took a few deep breaths.

From Marinette's observations, the fights recently had become more difficult. The akuma were more violent, more intelligible, and more difficult to get rid of. In a worrying turn, this one was suggesting the presence of an ally. Never before had two akuma appeared at once, that was one thing Marinette could be sure of and rely on, something she could use against them every time. That and she would have Chat. But not this time. She had made sure of it. And without him, snark, puns, tactical backup and all, this was going to be _tricky_. But no matter. She had managed on her own before, she'd do it again, and what's a plant to a superhero anyway?

_It's not a problem! I'm not afraid of a plant!_

Marinette closed her eyes to the sight of the akuma for a moment, brainstorming. No injury to the main body was permanent and any damage to the vines was redundant to actually defeating it, since there was so many and she doubted they would stay gone for long. _How do you kill an invulnerable plant? One with razor-sharp thorns and a very very bad temper._

Her first solution to the problem was _chemicals. Chemicals kill plants_ , but she was no chemist, and none were at hand.

The second was; a plague of insects. This was an even sillier idea. Yes, the Florist had mentioned the pest nature of a ladybug but, unfortunately, plagues of locusts or ladybug beetles were exceptionally rare in England. Running out of ideas, Marinette opened her eyes and glanced over the top of her hiding place.

The akuma was out of sight. While grateful for the absence of the nauseating creature, Marinette turned a sickly shade of grey at the akuma's vanishing trick. The garden was entirely silent, unnaturally so. Not even a bird was flying overhead or rustling in a nearby tree, making the silence enough to chill Marinette.

Bad, bad, this was bad. Wherever the akuma had gone to it was now somewhere she could not see it, or see what it was planning. With the advantage of the element of surprise it could easily break her neck, or send a thorn through her chest in a painfully short moment if it crept up behind her. Marinette turned on the spot, still crouching down in cramped fear, her heel digging into the gravel underfoot as she surveyed the space behind her feverishly. Nothing. The gardens behind her were vacant, lit clearly by the glow from inside the hall and stretching back like a whole park in itself. Marinette tensed up, she knew something was nearby. Something right by her.

She searched around her, eyes darting from one shrub to the other until they landed on a shape lying still on the ground, hidden by the shadow of a topiary plant.

Marinette shuffled closer to the body and quickly found a pulse. This may have been the scream from earlier. He was dressed in a smart yet slightly muddy uniform, most likely a guard hired to keep any gate crashers from the party indoors. And he was attacked by the Florist on its way into the ballroom with no chance of any kind of victory from the very beginning, poor guy.

After tugging the gently snoring man deeper into the undergrowth, and commenting to herself about her own repeatedly ineffective ways of getting people out of the crossfire ( _Yeah sure, just shove them out of sight. It'll be fine._ ), she stood up straight behind the shelter of the tall topiary. Now, her eyes had had the time to adjust to the change of lighting and she doubted the Florist would waste much more time in disposing of her, so she prepared for an attack.

Marinette peered into the gloom, her hand tightening around her closed fan. Sure enough the akuma's voice came out of the darkness.

" _Found you_."

She heard a shattering crunch from behind her, only a moment before a barbed vine erupted through the undergrowth behind her and knocked Marinette off her feet and away into a medium sized stone planter. It shattered with the impact, sending rubble into local flower patches and a shower of dust over Marinette's hair. Her back suddenly ached. It hurt to stand up again.

"Oh little one, don't you understand?" The akuma drifted through the shrubs and topiaries, its voice oozing hatred.

"People like us, the scum of the street; we must make our own vengeance. People like her," it thrust a hand behind to the glowing façade of the building. "They can just do whatever they like to us; they have the money and power to do so, why bother stand up to them. Convict us of fraud. Lock us up. Starve our families 'til we're only bones. Steal our fortunes. Steal our children from our very arms."

The akuma leant in to the dazed Marinette, who swayed slightly on her feet but still stared into the akuma's pair of sickly yellow eyes. Its hand cupped her chin, pulling Marinette's face closer to its own.

"Take our children into the workhouse in front of our own eyes."

"I'm sorry."

The akuma frowned. "Why would you apologise?"

"Because it's my job to keep the people in this city safe." Marinette said. She felt grit between her teeth as she spoke.

The akuma scowled and spat at the ground, dropping its hand from Marinette's face and stepping back.

"I may have considered letting a little bug with a silly idea of heroism like yours scuttle off free if...if it weren't for my own arrangements."

"Who is it? Who are you working with?"

"None of your business. If all goes to his plan you'll never even have to meet him, I'll get to do what I need done and he'll get what he wants." The akuma said, twirling a nearby sprig of witch-hazel between its fingers.

"What's that?" Marinette dreaded the answer.

"Why, those lovely little two-parts-of-a-whole you heroes are so proud of."

Marinette felt her heart shrink in her chest, the icy feeling of panic rising up to her throat as she felt her world get a little bit bigger. And her life as the Ladybug a little thornier.

Neither she nor Chat had ever discussed where they had acquired their talents, she had only assumed he had found his the same way she had, and rarely shared the details of said abilities. Marinette hadn't even told him about her earrings. She figured he hadn't gleaned anything about that anyway, she always made sure her hair covered up the studs wherever she was, whoever she was. Something she had assumed quite early on in the partnership was the presence of a similar item in his own hands, perhaps not another pair of earrings but maybe an item of the same size, shape and power.

Marinette had not only deduced this from the consideration of simple logic and the fact that similarly to her Chat would dash away in a hurry after pulling off a large attack spell with his weapon of choice, Cinderella style. But also from an inkling of a presence around him similar to the one she had felt when she first encountered her little miracle earrings. Given, it was merely a vibe, but she had found herself feeling a certain pull towards Chat from an early instance.

Beyond a tad embarrassing, it was curious. The feeling was of a second half and a polar opposite. He was in fact her opposite, a bright and loud character almost comedic compared to what she was with the mask on.

The second part to a whole.

"All I need for now are your miraculous powers. That's all I ask from you." The akuma said.

_So there are others who know about these things. There are others out there._

"I'm not handing them over."

"I promise I won't kill you if you _just_ hand them to me."

Marinette steadied herself. Her fan had been knocked from her hand but she only needed a few precious moments to reach where it had landed, on a small mound covered in rich pink flowers a couple dozen feet to her left, all she needed first was to distract the darn creature.

The distraction came quickly in the form of the newly conscious groundskeeper wobbling to his feet and moaning in confusion. He yelped in shock when the akuma came into his view and began to run away back to the building. Although neither Marinette nor the akuma made any move to follow him, Marinette recovered from the interruption a moment sooner than the Florist, who stared after the retreating man with venomous hunger, and scrambled to her left down the pebbled path towards a forest of brightly coloured flower bushes.

Once she was among the plants the akuma had lost sight of Marinette, but she knew the advantage wouldn't last more than a few moments so hurried to her fan, the sound of her own breath and pebbles crunching underfoot being all she could hear over her own voice in head.

_Get the fan. Stop those vines. Find the butterfly. Don't die._

Marinette reached where her fan was lying, grabbing it from amongst gnarled branches and climbed up onto a low marble wall and held the fan out in front of her. The akuma came back in view, walking slowly to where Marinette stood with a stony expression.

"Don't think you have any chance in fighting back, little bug. None of your magic tricks can do anything to me, and…" It paused, looking Marinette up and down. Her chest was heaving and her outstretched arms were quivering slightly. A small pink flower had been caught in her hair. "It looks like you've run out of steam, child."

Marinette pursed her lips. She _was_ becoming worn out. Maybe it would have been a better idea to let Adrien get out of sight and bring Chat into the fray; then she might have been spared some of the beatings. She dropped the idea from her mind quickly. It was too late to regret that, too late to bring anyone else into the fight.

Gathering herself together and slowing her breaths Marinette said, "I've got enough left to stand up to you."

"Ah, wonderful." It said. A vine shot out directly at Marinette's face.

She rolled out of the way letting the vine shoot past her and into the wall of dense hedge; showering Marinette with dark green leafs. The vine lodged in the hedge and stayed lodged, the thorns finding themselves caught between the tangle of rigid branches, it tugged and twisted but didn't budge from its place.

Marinette didn't waste a moment and leapt up onto the taut vine and ran along its length, dodging a couple limbs coming her way and swatting another away with her fan, until she reached the dumbfounded akuma at the end. There she struck the akuma across the temple with the fan's handle and thrust her flattened palm up into its jaw, its head jerking back and both of them toppling back to the ground in a tangle of limbs and colourful armour. The akuma was only stunned and some of the vines still stirred around them but Marinette began searching without another attempt at attack.

The item would be somewhere on its body, somewhere reasonably shielded from herself, so she knew if she looked hard enough it would show itself to her. This was unfortunate in this akuma's case however as this involved being up close and very personal for a period of indeterminate time and _this_ akuma was not one Marinette was comfortable spending any time in close proximity with.

She swept her eyes over its torso but nothing of particular interest. Its skin was rough and uneven but had no bizarre purple stones lodged in it as far as she could tell, there was no visible place a stone could even be concealed in its armour.

Starting to panic; the akuma would regain its senses soon enough, Marinette began to examine the area of its shoulder where many of the vines had sprouted from. She gasped as the akuma twisted it its place to begin to turn to see where she was crouching by its side and clamped her hand down over its eyes. A stupid move, but one that would buy her a few moments more.

It payed off, as a second before the akuma had returned from its daze Marinette's eyes fell on a small purple stone hidden amongst the root-like tangle around the akuma's shoulder blades.

_Found you._

The akuma yanked Marinette's hand away from its face and hissed. Now she was right up next to the thing, Marinette could get a proper view of its face, and it wasn't a pretty one. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow and bored straight into Marinette's own clear blue, sending a shiver down her spine.

With a yelp, Marinette felt herself dragged backwards and up, up until the gardens below were just a green carpet of topiaries and fountains swaying, strangely enough, a dozen feet _above_ her head. Distantly, Marinette recognised the grip of a vine around her left ankle and the feeling of distinct wrongness that comes from the sensation of gravity pulling in the opposite direction that normal. She tensed her stomach and swung herself up, in an attempt to reach the vine holding her in the air but was jerked out from the momentum when the vine whisked her through the air again.

And let go.

The motion continued and Marinette whizzed through the cold air for the second time that night. She was fed up with being tossed around by this creature but unfortunately there was very little she could do. What goes up must come down and from her point of view; the landscapes of the garden, grand building and sky were swirling around in an indistinguishable blur.

Because of this she struggled to predict her exact destination, and hoped it was another lovely little bush or hedge to break her fall like last time.

But this time her landing was far less soft.

Marinette gasped as her hip felt the full force of the impact after what felt like a long long time spent airborne. She crashed through the window into the dead end of a long dark corridor and fell to the carpeted floor, rolling to a stop by a row of busts, coughing and wheezing.

The hallway was empty of course; the authorities had yet to arrive at the scene to find out exactly what had caused the hysteria at such a refined celebration. For now that was working in Marinette's favour, peelers and detectives would only get in her way and spend more time getting hurt than being any actual help against a creature like this.

Marinette pulled an arm in, pushing her elbow into the floor to prop herself up. Her arm folded in under her and she fell back to the ground, her chin knocking against the floor with a crack. She coughed and rolled onto her back, screwing her eyes shut and tried to slow her breathing to normal, her breaths erupting into more coughing whenever she did.

Before long the familiar and nauseating sound of the akuma's voice drifted through the now glassless windows at the end of the hallway and reached Marinette's ringing ears.

"Crush the bug. Crush the bug. Crush…and take them back. Take them back. My children."

Marinette grit her teeth and pulled herself to her feet, holding herself against the pedestal of the bust she had landed at the foot of. The glass had scattered over the floor further past where she had landed, spilling some distance down the corridor. Her fan was nowhere in sight. The cuts on her leg were almost healed, though caked in dirt and vegetation, all her bruises had vanished by now and the only visible injury she still had left was a collection of small slashes from the broken window glass. Despite this she was well aware she was on her last legs. Her vision swam and blurred and her knees had begun to feel weak under her.

_Come on. No time to rest._

The akuma clambered through the window; not looking at all tired out from the fight so far, only angrier, and lowered itself to the ground.

"Crush. Crush. Little bug." It muttered, crunching shards of glass underfoot. It continued to mumble and hiss as its vines slowly crept over to where Marinette was standing.

_Move. Move damn it._

Marinette's legs wouldn't budge.

 _Move. Please_ please _move._

She held her breath as a vine slithered up to her feet and raised its head like a viper, up to Marinette face. It inched closer to her, reaching for her ear and a small red and black stud she had thought she had concealed with her hair.

Marinette ducked her head down, tucking her chin into her chest and clamping her hands over her ears.

_Pitiful. I'm practically giving up._

"Now, don't mind me." The akuma said. A second vine idly tugged her hands away and wrapped itself around Marinette's head and forcing her face towards the first vine. "I'm almost done with you little pest."

The vine crept closer again to her earrings.

Marinette closed her eyes. She had had enough of staring down this akuma. Maybe she'd had enough of everything in fact. If she couldn't hold off one creature on her own then she clearly wasn't the one suited for wielding this power.

"Ladybug!"

The voice broke through her daze with a jolt. Marinette's eyes snapped open and she caught her breath.

Adrien stood in an open doorway some distance away, staring at the two of them with wide eyes. The akuma hadn't reacted to his voice and apparently hadn't heard him at all in its furious trance.

Marinette didn't wait for it to notice him and grabbed a shard of glass resting nearby her and jabbed it into the akuma's shoulder. It shrieked and the vines loosened, letting Marinette roll out of the way to a safer distance. She frowned; she could see neither Adrien nor her fan. One or the other would be a sight for sore eyes despite the fact that Adrien seemingly had no instinct for self-preservation. It was simply a relief to see him safe and sound.

The missing fan, however, posed a problem. It had been escaping her grip repeatedly that night as if it had a mind of its own and a determination to get her killed as fast as possible. If there was a way to tie it straight to her wrist, or a similar solution, Marinette would have been more than eager to sign up. The damn thing spent more time lost than in her hands.

She took another step back from the akuma, who had been re-invigorated by her escape. It picked the shard from its shoulder and pointed a long gnarled finger at Marinette.

"You just don't know when you've been finished off, do you?" It said.

A shape moved behind the akuma then stepped into the moonlight.

"That's because you've finished no one yet."

Adrien held up a large sconce, lit and clearly ripped out of the wall very recently. He thrust the candles into the akuma's back and the flames spread fast. Though the candles were dripping hot wax over his arms and face he remained rooted in his place with the candleholder held above his head until most of the vines were aflame and flailing around the hallway.

The akuma screamed as the fire ate through the vines faster than any glass shard or fan could have. Chunks of vegetation dropped out of the air to the ground by Marinette, charred and smoking.

Adrien dropped the sconce at his feet and stamped out the candles' flames before running some distance away, clearly waiting for Ladybug to finish the job.

Marinette blinked and snapped out of her surprise, jumping forwards to duck under a smouldering vine and around the akuma's back. It was completely blind to her now, not even aware of her movements and only trying futilely to put out the fire. Marinette reached her hand into the flames covering the akuma's body to where she remembered the stone to be. Her hand was scorched, her skin stung and blistered from the heat but she had already had enough. Enough of this whole fight. Enough of being knocked about. Enough of backing down.

Her fingers curled around the smooth surface of the stone.

_Enough of this._

She pulled it out from the remains of the vines and dropped it to the carpeted floor. It smouldered in its place for a moment before her foot came down on it, crushing it into a collection of shards.

"Incredible." Adrien's voice came from the other end of the hall. The moonlight behind him fell across his shoulders and his dishevelled blond hair, illuminating the places the wax had clung to him, to his cheeks and far-too-expensive blouse and waistcoat.

Marinette smiled. "I've done better."

Her fan laid a step behind Adrien, tucked behind a display case.

"Could you pass me that please?" She said, gesturing to her wayward fan.

Adrien jumped into action, picking the fan up and tossing it into Marinette's hand. It landed back in her grip and she turned to the small purple butterfly making lazy circles around the motionless and charred akuma. Marinette quickly finished her duty; freeing the butterfly and watching it drift out through the glassless window frame into the night air before the shattered glass on the ground rustled and leapt back up to their place and the vines and greenery melted away from the unconscious akumised victim. The hallway almost looked untouched by the battle.

Adrien walked over to where she stood.

"Are you okay?" He asked. There was a smudge of sauce on his chin from where Marinette had dropped him by the tables.

She smiled. "Yeah. I'm completely fine." Marinette suddenly lost the smile. She remembered dropping him by the tables. "Are _you_ okay? What are you doing back here, this is far too dangerous. You could have been hurt!"

He grinned nervously, blushing and rubbing his neck. "I woke up once everyone was already gone and heard you fighting next door. I thought that…well… I didn't want to leave you if I could have helped."

Marinette sighed. Reckless and cute. A dangerous combination.

"I guess its fine. As long as you're not hurt."

"Not at all. I've only got a bit of a bruise right here." He gestured to a spot on the back of his head. "I must have bumped it on something and knocked myself out accidently. Ha ha!"

Marinette grimaced. "Be more careful next time." She made a mental note to apologise for that somehow.

Adrien peered past Marinette at the woman lying on the ground. She was wearing a green apron with small red and yellow flowers embroidered onto it and lay in the centre of a burnt ring on the carpet. She appeared to be sleeping soundly but had a frosting of tears around her eyes and a red glow from crying.

"Do you think she's okay?" He asked.

Marinette crouched down and moved some tangled hair away from the woman's sleeping face.

"I think she'll do better than before. If this happened because of her misfortune then I can only hope that I've done something to turn her luck around."

Marinette turned back to Adrien and stood up.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Adrien blushed harder and tugged at his collar. "Ah. Um, I was just thinking about how much you've done for…for us. As in, like a hero. You're really a great hero. Really. I really…admire you."

"Is that so?" Marinette felt herself burning up. She had still been in Ladybug Mode for the most part but now that the battle buzz had worn off she was beginning to feel the usual frailty she felt around Adrien. "I'm…glad to know you feel that way."

Adrien pushed his hair around his face, making it more of a mess in the process. "Ha ha. I'm- I'm really a big fan. Of you, I'm a fan of you." His hands were busy, fixing his hair, straightening his shirt collar, picking dust from his suit.

Marinette was frozen in place. "Is that so?" His words weren't being processed or recognised at the time in the least, neither was his behaviour. Perhaps it was the exhaustion setting in that was letting him get to her so easily.

"I really, really admire you."

Marinette's heart was thumping in her chest. She was reaching optimum inelegance.

"I really think what you've done for this city has helped... a huge number of people…and…well…"

Blood rushed in her ears and completely drowned out his voice. At this point she knew she was bound to make a fool of herself somehow, even if she attempted to make some more conversation she was fated to humiliate herself in front of him.

Adrien shuffled his feet, glancing away from Marinette's blank but bright red face. "Do you think we'll meet again? I'd really love to know more about you, Ladybug. Would you be okay with being around someone like me? "

Marinette heard none of it, only a rushing in her ears and a desire to get out of his sight as soon as possible. "Is that so? In that case I'd better be heading off. Right now. Goodbye." She delivered her wooden line and snapped her fan open, releasing a flurry of red feathers and a gust of floral scented air. When the dust cleared she had vanished from the corridor.

Adrien dropped his arms to his sides.

"…Lady?"

He sniffed and picked at a wax patch on his face. He had yet to notice the redness flaring up around the dribbles of wax on his cheeks and the singed edges of his sleeves; he had left his undivided attention on Ladybug from the moment he had spotted her.

But she had seemed awfully distracted while he was talking to her. And it had taken a whole lot of his concentration not to burst into a gibbering mess in front of her during said conversation. There was something about being out of costume while being face to face with her.

He couldn't help thinking about her sudden exit, Cinderella style.

_Maybe it was something I said._

He sighed and began to make his way down the hallway; he guessed he would have some explaining to do once he was home.

* * *

Chloe woke up with a start.

Her dress was ruined, shredded in fact. She was lying in broken glass and dropped cutlery and hats. There was a gourmet prawn caught in her hair.

"Adrien?" She called out, sitting in the centre of a large empty ballroom. She faintly remembered something horrific dragging her away from him; the memory of it chilled her. After that was a blur but there was someone else in her memory, someone who made her pause. It was a blurry image in her mind, just a figure in red and a few shouted words.

Then it fell into place.

She sat upright. She had been rescued by the Ladybug. The city's hero had come to save _her_.

The evening hadn't gone to plan but Chloe decided that even if her time with Adrien was cut short that night she had received at least one compliment, and that might just make up for some of the disaster.


End file.
